


Lying With You

by Awakening5



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mistletoe, One of these characters doesn't belong here, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, There is no secret identity, like pure tooth-rotting fluff, the love is requited but they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awakening5/pseuds/Awakening5
Summary: Actress Michelle Jones and superhero Spider-Man—a.k.a. Peter Parker—were spotted together in New York City yesterday afternoon. It appears as though Spider-Man saved Jones during the filming of her latest project. And more than that, the famous New York web-slinger was photographed having taken his mask off for the Emmy award-winning actress.-Michelle Jones and Spider-Man Spotted Together in New York, eonline.comMichelle Jones has an important movie premiering soon. Spider-Man’s endless popularity cycle with New York is on the decline. So it’s only natural they take this opportunity accidentally gifted to them, right? After all, their popularity has soared from only one encounter. Just imagine what would happen if they started dating.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 138
Kudos: 164
Collections: Spideychelle Secret Santa - 2k20





	1. The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coykoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/gifts).



> A gift to the wonderful [coykoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi). I hope this Celebrity Fake Dating AU brings you all the holiday joy!

_I can't be the only one to wonder why Peter Parker still wears that ridiculous mask. I'm calling on all of my listeners to ask themselves—really ask themselves—what reason could this guy_ possibly _have to cover his face? My leading theory? Spider-Man as we know him is a Stark robot, and this Peter Parker guy is just some lucky loafer back at Avengers HQ who they use for the odd PR stunt._

_-J Jonah Jameson, Just the Facts_

The Spider Sense was a peculiar thing, Peter decided, as he swung desperately towards the screaming woman. In this case, for instance, had he not _sensed_ the woman dangling from the side of the building because he had heard her and then saw her? Did that sixth sense only activate when the other five were not capable on their own? If he thought about it long enough, Peter was likely to come up with several counter examples to this hypothesis. But as it was, he had to focus on the woman.

She dangled oddly off the building, almost like she was being held to it somehow. There were big lights shining on her, and it looked like the structure for the lights had been _built_ on the side of the wall and rooftop of the tall building for the intent of shining on this poor woman. Lights shining in the daytime were already strange enough, but acting as a spotlight like this?

Peter's first thought was of the elusive and horrible Screwball, who set up elaborate challenges for Spider-Man to accomplish for the sole purpose of gaining new followers and providing them with entertainment. Screwball had been laying low since the warrant for her arrest was issued, and Peter just prayed that he was foiling her plots before she really got started again.

He hit the wall of the building at a sprint, and ran along the side of it. He dove over the lighting frame, webbing the wall, and pulling himself to the woman. Only now did he realize how many other people there were around them. A dozen or so people on the building opposite them with massive camera equipment. A few shady-looking figures on the top of the roof looking down at where the woman had been clinging to a windowsill. Screwball must have been planning this for some time to have so many people involved.

"What the fuck?" the woman cried out as Peter wrapped an arm around her and leapt off the wall. As they launched from the wall, Peter noticed a pair of cables he hadn't seen before that somehow attached the woman to the roof above. He grabbed at the cables, quite unsure about Screwball's game here, but knowing that he didn't want the woman to take the brunt of the force when the cable was pulled taut.

Instead, he pulled at the cable—exerting a lot more strength than he would have thought necessary—and pulled some sort of apparatus from the roof above as he and the woman dropped to the ground below.

It wasn't his smoothest of saves, but Peter was able to swing them into a safe decent, holding the screaming woman tight against his body, all while preventing the anchor apparatus from falling faster than them and pulling them to the ground below.

He set the woman down, who stopped screaming and took deep, stuttering breaths.

"Are you okay, ma'a—" Peter cut himself off when he got a good look at her at last. Her hair was a bit of a mess after their swing to safety, but she was unmistakably—"Michelle Jones?" he asked, amazed.

Her breathing still harrowed, she nodded. "And you must be Spider-Man," she said, eyes wide.

"I don't understand," he shook his head. "What are _you_ doing on the side of a building in New York?"

"I'm shooting a fucking _movie_ ," she cried out. "What else would I be doing? What are _you_ doing?"

Peter looked up at the buildings above, and it all looked so obvious in hindsight. In his defense, Screwball did stuff _very_ similar to a film shoot for her shenanigans. He pulled off his mask. It was a subconscious thing, when Spider-Man made a mistake. Let people see the human inside the suit. Spidey should be infallible. Peter Parker could be an idiot.

"I am _so_ sorry, Mich—Miss Jones. I swear I thought you were in trouble and I was just trying to save you. Which, obviously all of that," he said, waving above them to the production work of lighting and cameras, "is not something that you need saving from, but—"

"Dude," Michelle Jones said, a smirk coming to her lips and hands coming up in a placating gesture. "Chill. And call me Michelle, please." Peter breathed out in relief and she continued. "Obviously this was just a silly misunderstanding, and no real damage was done."

People started to gather around them in the street, always excited to see some Spidey action in the city. Only this time, Peter heard different excited whispers than the usual. "Is that _Michelle_ _Jones_?" "Spidey has his _mask_ off?" and "Parker looks younger in person." He heard the distinctive sound of smart phones taking their picture.

"Still," Peter replied. "I probably should have canvassed the area a little better. I might have realized what was going on."

She shrugged, and glanced around. "Worst case, we'll be pushed back a day of filming as they set it all up again." She snorted. "When they were worried about shooting on location in New York, I guarantee _this_ isn't what they were worried about."

Peter laughed out loud. He'd always appreciated how down to earth Michelle Jones was in her talk show appearances, but he never knew how much to take away from those events. After all, they _were_ actors. So it was reaffirming to see how quickly she'd gotten over his embarrassing foible and made light of the situation.

"Well, Michelle,"—the name sounded nice on his lips—"Your studio can contact the Avengers if they need reimbursement for a day of shooting." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's definitely not the first time I've messed up and cost Tony a bunch of money, so he won't be all that surprised at the call."

The beautiful actress laughed at that, and Peter decided he rather liked the sound. "Don't worry," she said, and touched his forearm reassuringly. She waved around them at the people gathered with her free hand. "The publicity this is sure to drum up will be worth the lost day. Though...maybe you could help get me and the rig back up to the rooftop?"

She lifted her shirt up to unhook the cables attached to a harness under her clothes. Peter resisted rolling his eyes at himself. If he'd taken just a few seconds to really examine the situation, none of this would have happened. But then...he wouldn't have met Michelle Jones in that case. So maybe it was worth the mistake in the end. "What are you even doing up there?" Peter said, and took the unfastened cables in his hand, and pulled the broken anchor towards them. "Don't they have stunt people for this kind of work?"

She shrugged. "I mean, they _do_. But I like a good challenge. Besides, you don't take over the Mission Impossible franchise from Tom Cruise and _not_ do the stunts. It would just add one more hurdle for the public."

"Hurdle?"

"I'm black and I have boobs," Michelle said, nonchalance in her tone, but her back stiffened.

"Right," he said instead. "Sorry about people. They can suck."

She nodded at him. "They can also be amazing. Some of them can even walk up walls." She stepped forward into his space with a smirk, and he grinned back, wrapping an arm around her while tightening his grip around the cables.

The crowd, which Peter had almost forgotten was there, parted for them as he walked back to and then up the wall. Michelle tightened her grip around his shoulders, so he held her tighter around the waist. After about twenty feet up the wall, she seemed to relax in his grip, and stopped staring at the ground below them.

"I'm really impressed," Peter told her. "Most people have a fear of heights."

"Oh, I do too," Michelle admitted. "I'm using an acting technique so I don't freak out in front of you right now."

Peter grinned. "Well, don't worry. I've got you."

She buried her face in his neck. "Of course. You haven't done anything to show incompetence so far. Why wouldn't I have complete trust in you?"

He felt her smile against his neck."Don't tempt me," Peter chuckled.

Despite her sarcasm, Peter did get her safely to the rooftop, where an entire crew of people were still freaking out. Any number of production people came rushing towards her to check on her while Peter hauled the rig up the rest of the way and put it back in the place it had been anchored to the rooftop. He cringed at a few of the production crew who looked rather weary at the damage he'd done to their set.

"Sorry about the mess. I can...um...help fix it if you'd like?"

But they declined his offer, and instead requested his autograph. Peter signed it _Spider-Man_ , as always. He kept an eye on Michelle all the while, hoping they wouldn't whisk her away to a trailer or something while he was busy. Fortunately, she seemed to be loitering for one reason or another, so he made his way over to her.

"So yeah," he took a deep breath. "Sorry about all this. Again."

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "You gave me a really good story. Thanks for the 'save', Spidey."

He snorted. "Sure. If we ever meet again, hopefully it will be in less stupid circumstances."

"I'll get you tickets to the premiere," she said with a wink.

He smiled at her for a moment too long and then backed up to the edge of the building. "Nice to meet you, Michelle." And with a dumb little salute, he fell backwards off the building. As he swung away, Peter pulled his mask on to hide the stupid grin on his face.

-0-0-0-

_Actress Michelle Jones and superhero Spider-Man—a.k.a. Peter Parker—were spotted together in New York City yesterday afternoon. Paramount is expected to make a statement on the encounter, but it appears as though Spider-Man saved Jones during the filming of Mission Impossible 9. And more than that, the famous New York web-slinger was photographed having taken his mask off for the Emmy award-winning actress. Check out the slide show below of images of the two of them getting close._

_-Michelle Jones and Spider-Man Spotted Together in New York, eonline.com_

Michelle scanned the headlines for the seventeenth time that day. She figured it was a nice break from the web searching of Spider-Man she'd been doing. It's not like she'd been ignorant of the hero's history. She was from Queens after all, and had spent her high school days keeping her eyes peeled for him. That was all before the Mysterio stuff went down and it was revealed that Spider-Man was actually a kid her age, who went to a rival school. She might have actually crossed paths with him at some point without knowing it.

But over the next decade, she'd been pulled away to LA and Hollywood, and hadn't kept close tabs on the man or the hero, beyond the big Avengers events that stole the whole world's attention.

Her phone rang, and Michelle distractedly answered the Facetime call. "Michelle!" came the voice of her assistant. "I can't believe you didn't call me after yesterday!"

"Hey Betty," Michelle replied, pulling up her twitter feed to see what else was being said. She generally tried to avoid most internet spaces for their toxicity, but even she couldn't resist after the craziness yesterday. "Yeah, sorry, I was a little scattered yesterday. And shooting just stopped today."

Michelle would just leave out that she'd had plenty of twenty-minute breaks throughout the day that she'd spent looking at Spider-Man pictures. Just because she'd gotten an armful yesterday didn't mean she didn't want an eyeful today.

"No matter," Betty said. "It gave me time to figure stuff out."

Michelle frowned. She dropped the twitter feed to get a look at her agent. "Figure out what?"

"Well, naturally the big wigs called up Avenger's PR to see if they could use Spidey when they ramp up marketing early next year. This story kind of blew up everywhere, and they want to capitalize."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Of course they do." And then, despite herself, she couldn't help but ask. "And...and what did they say?"

"Well, they were all on board pretty quickly, but then I saw some interesting developments and...well, I had an idea."

Michelle didn't like the hesitant tone in Betty's voice. Or the way she wasn't looking at her phone anymore—the Facetime equivalent of avoiding eye contact, Michelle supposed. "What idea?"

"The developments," Betty said, ignoring her question. "Were that your popularity has spiked over the last twenty-four hours. You know you've got a +9000% hit rate on imdb? And that includes all your projects, too. _Wanted by the FBI_ is up ten times that!"

MJ had had half a mind to interrupt Betty on whatever scheme she was planning. But the mention of her special project stopped her. So Betty continued. "And on top of that...well, you've probably seen the articles. People are shipping you two now."

Michelle had seen. And she'd rolled her eyes at the power of the internet and a few out-of-context images. Her touching his arm. His wrapped snugly around her waist. And no matter how nice his sure grip had felt, it hadn't meant anything _close_ to what the internet was claiming.

Michelle had spent one of her breaks going down that terrifying rabbit hole, and fortunately stopped short of the erotica that had somehow already been written about the two of them. She'd seen the summaries of one of the stories, though. That was enough.

"What's your point, Betty," Michelle demanded after clearing her throat.

"I talked to Peter's people, and asked about an arrangement. A dating arrangement."

"Betty!" Michelle shouted, deciding to ignore that Betty was calling him 'Peter' now, like that was a normal thing to do. "What do you mean? You asked a superhero out on my behalf through his agent?"

"No!" Betty shook her head. "It was all preliminary talks, Michelle. About a _fake_ relationship with Spider-Man. Or Peter Parker, I guess. Well, both."

"A _fake_ relationship?" Michelle deadpanned. "That's somehow even more ridiculous than you setting me up for real."

"And yet he already said yes," Betty winced as she waited for Michelle's response.

But hardly any response came. It didn't quite compute. "He said...yes," Michelle repeated. "I thought you said it was preliminary. And _why_ would he say yes?"

"It _was_ preliminary. But then Peter snatched the phone from Happy and agreed to it."

"Why?" Michelle repeated, still not quite believing she was having this conversation. And deciding to ignore a topic she would have very much liked to discuss at length in other circumstances. Peter's guy was named _Happy?_

"I don't know," Betty said, waving her hand flippantly. "But Michelle, this kind of thing happens all the time. Celebrities get out of a long-term relationship and want to control the narrative of the media following the break-up. Or people connect to another big name to generate pub, like you and I want to do. Or maybe he's just charmed by you."

Michelle groaned. "Betty, please, why would he choose to fake date me if he were charmed? Wouldn't he just...I don't know, _actually_ date me?"

"Fine," Betty conceded. "So it's another reason. You can ask him on your first date this weekend."

"My _what_?" Michelle's heart sped up.

Betty sighed. "Michelle, you're smarter than anyone I know. I _know_ you can keep up in this conversation. So is it a yes or a no?"

Michelle felt her face heat up. She'd really rather think about this for a minute. And it would be nice to know what a fucking superhero was getting out of the arrangement. But...her very personal film would be coming out next month. _Mission Impossible_ didn't need the pub, but _Wanted by the FBI_ did.

And in the deep recesses of her brain, Michelle couldn't ignore her obsession with Spider-Man since yesterday's encounter. It _would_ be nice to see him again. If only to get over the fascination.

"Alright Betty. Walk me through the plan."


	2. The Date

_I've had people calling in all week telling me my theory about Spider-Man being a Stark bot has been disproven. To which I say 'OPEN YOUR EYES, PEOPLE!' How obvious can they get? The day after I uncover their plots, Spider-Man takes off his mask in action for the first time in months? And it just so happens to be in a ridiculous ruined rescue turned romance of the starlet Michelle Jones? It was all set up. I saw the videos. I saw the cables. It would have been easy for a man of Tony Stark's means to manipulate the public into believing the lies._

_-J Jonah Jameson, Just the Facts_

Their people chose Queens for dinner. It made sense, Peter supposed. They were both from here. Which was a fun coincidence. And definitely not something like fate. Peter didn't believe in that. Even if he couldn't stop thinking about Ned's words as he prepared him for the date.

"Dude, she grew up like two blocks away from us! If she'd have been into science instead of the arts, she might have gone to Midtown!"

All a coincidence. After all, she _didn't_ go to Midtown. And so what if their meeting felt a bit like serendipity? And so what if he'd been watching all of her shows and movies this week and trying desperately not to fall for her?

He wasn't doing this ridiculous arrangement to spend time with her. That was just a bonus. And no matter what teasing he got from Ned, Peter knew his silly infatuation with Michelle Jones wouldn't be a problem.

Her car pulled up to the side of the restaurant where Peter waited. He hadn't garnered much attention yet, which was fine with him. Peter Parker was well-known, but he wasn't eye-catchingly well-known. Not like Spider-Man or Michelle Jones. He tugged at his collar and then wiped his hands on his pants.

Michelle stepped out of her car, and Peter had to swallow before greeting her. She looked absolutely gorgeous, even if she was dressed simply. Jeans and a nice blouse, with a delightfully green coat. It seemed she, too, had not been properly warned about the restaurant that had been selected for them.

"Hi Michelle," Peter said, as warmly as he could. She was the actress, not him. But he would do his best to make their first purposeful public appearance seem natural.

She smiled demurely back at him, and stepped forward into his space. He took the hint and placed his hand on the small of her back to lead them to the restaurant's entrance. "I suppose I should call you Peter, then?" she asked quietly.

They really should have met again in person before doing so in public like this. But they were both very busy people, and Happy and Betty wanted to get this started as soon as possible.

"Call me whatever you'd like," he said. He noticed the first whispers of the night, pointing him and Michelle out. A young couple standing outside the restaurant already had their phones out. "Just be glad you can't call me late for dinner."

"Oh my god," Michelle said with a grin. She was good at ignoring the way a couple of phones lifted to take pictures of them. "Even in my wildest fantasies, you weren't _this_ big of a dork."

"You'd be surprised how many dinner dates I'm late to. But," Peter raised his eyebrows at her before nodding to the young employee who opened the door for them. "Fantasies, eh?"

"Yeah," she replied easily. "Been replaying your 'save' last week over and over in my head, thinking of all the ways I might have died."

Peter hummed. "Just the kind of fantasies a guy wants his date to be having about him."

Michelle snorted, and then their conversation died as they took in the restaurant. She sighed. "You know, when they told me we'd be eating in Queens, I was excited. I was not expecting a nice place like this, if I'm honest with you."

"Neither was I," Peter agreed. And it wasn't like they were eating at The Ritz. But still, they were probably both underdressed. And Peter still wasn't sure what to do with multiple forks and spoons, which he might be getting here.

The smile that came to Michelle's face was fake, and it was obvious, and Peter wondered where that Emmy-winning work was now. "That's alright," she said softly. "Just here for an appearance, right?"

It was absolutely the truth, so it bothered Peter that it hurt a little to hear her say it. His smile probably looked fake, too.

They were seated soon enough and Peter tried to ignore the occasional whisper and not-so-subtle glance from the restaurant's other patrons. He was used to it, but he was usually under his mask. It was...easier under the mask.

"How's the shoot going?" Peter asked, glancing up from the menu with far too many choices on it.

Michelle nodded. "Very well," she said. "Now that we aren't being interrupted by heroes hell-bent on destroying our set."

Peter laughed. "I'm _never_ going to live that down, am I?"

"Not now that you've attached yourself to me for the rest of the shoot, at least," Michelle grinned. They heard a camera click, and her smile faltered. Maybe she wasn't used to it, either.

"And how long will that be?" Peter had been given vague dates for this arrangement, but no one had really pinned down the exact stopping time.

"Well, New York is our last location," she explained. "It'll go through November. But then I'm sticking around for a couple of weeks for some press. Fallon, _Good Morning America_ , a couple of New York spots."

Peter frowned. "You start press for a movie right after filming wraps?"

"Oh no, sorry. It's for another movie. _Wanted by the FBI_."

During his rapid study of her, Peter had noticed the upcoming film on her imdb page. "That's the one about Angela Davis, yeah?"

Michelle looked up at him, surprised. But before she could speak, the waiter interrupted them. Peter only listened with half an ear as he welcomed them to the restaurant, told them of special soups, and dropped off bread. He couldn't help but watch Michelle out the corner of his eye. She was beautiful, sure. And that might have something to do with it. But really...she just looked unsettled. And that didn't sit right with Peter.

The waiter left to give them time to decide on their meals, and Peter rather impetuously asked, "You wanna get out of here?"

Michelle's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Peter blushed. "No...no, no, not that. I understand that's a line, but that's not what I meant. I just meant that I know a pizza place that's pretty close to here. Real Queens."

"Eddie's?" Michelle asked, and she sat up a little straighter.

Peter grinned. "Yeah, you know it?"

"Of course I know it!" she gushed. "I must have eaten there a hundred times in high school."

"Surprised we never met then," Peter said with a laugh. "So, what do you say?"

Her excitement dropped. "Can we...can we do that?"

Peter only raised his eyebrows at her. She ducked her head. "Right, okay, that was dumb. Sorry, I've just never done this sort of thing before."

"That makes two of us." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'll leave some cash for the bread and the trouble, we'll leave holding hands, and it'll look great for the cameras. Sound good?"

She smiled at him. A real, genuine one. "Sounds good."

So they did as he suggested, and he offered a light apology as they passed the front desk and out of the restaurant.

Peter didn't release her hand even after they got some distance between them and the restaurant. If she asked, he'd say it was important to keep up the facade in case a passerby recognized them and took a picture. But really, he just liked feeling her hand in his on the brisk evening.

"So, am I really that bad of an actress?" she asked after a minute.

He turned sharply to look at her. "What? Of course not! What do you mean?"

She chuckled, and smiled slyly at him. "It's a bit of a shot to my ego that you could obviously tell how uncomfortable I was there."

"Well, it's a shot to mine that I made you uncomfortable, I guess."

"It wasn't you," Michelle clarified with a pat to his forearm. "I...don't do super well in public social situations. Bad choice of profession, I know."

They were still a block away from Eddie's, but Peter slowed his pace, just a little. He hadn't expected to actually _talk_ to Michelle Jones. Not like this. He'd been expecting a performance.

"It seems a little unfair that success in your field almost demands you be a celebrity," Peter commented, considering this for the first time.

Michelle scoffed. "If I hadn't sold out, you mean." At Peter's frown, she explained. "I could've stuck to theater. Maybe even stayed here in New York. You know, I grew up dreaming of Broadway, actually."

"I saw that you were considering doing the film adaptation of Wicked," Peter said.

Michelle hummed. She looked like she was avoiding the conversation for some reason. "You've been looking through my imdb and news, I see."

Peter flushed. "Yeah...I guess. Did a little bit of movie watching, too. I was nervous we wouldn't have much to talk about if I didn't prep a little."

"So what's your favorite movie of mine?" she asked, a tilt to her head. Her eyes were so pretty with the glint of the city street lights in them.

And in his distraction, Peter answered with the one movie he told himself he wouldn't bring up. " _Alone at Dusk_ ," he said, and then snapped his lips shut.

Michelle actually laughed. "You did _not_ just say my most critically panned movie that I just so happen to be topless in."

"What?" Peter stuttered. Maybe feigning stupidity would be the way to go. "That movie was panned? And I saw it on TV, you know. So, obviously edited. I didn't even..."

Michelle's unimpressed look stopped him in his tracks. "Okay...yeah, so really I just spent most of this evening telling myself not to mention it, so of course I went ahead and mentioned it."

Michelle sighed exaggeratedly. "See, now we're starting this whole fake relationship thing off on an uneven playing field. You've already seen me half-naked. That just feels unfair."

"I mean I could always—" Michelle sent another unimpressed look his way, and he stopped again. "I'm just going to stop talking now, if that's okay."

Michelle squeezed his hand, which he only now realized she'd never let go of. For some reason. "I'm just messing with you, Parker. It's okay. I made the movie. I knew what I was doing."

Peter nodded. "For what it's worth, I _did_ like the movie." He paused long enough to catch her eye with a smile. "And not _just_ because you were topless."

She snorted and bumped into him. They neared Eddie's, and the familiar smell of the dough and cheese washed over him. He glanced over and found a truly peaceful smile on Michelle's face. She'd never looked so beautiful to him.

-0-0-0-

_Okay internet, you've won! Michelle Jones and Spider-Man (Peter Parker) have been spotted together at a restaurant in Queens eonli.ne/39izGNo_

_@enews_

The bustle of Eddie's was so different from the uppity restaurant down the street. The audible chatter of various groups seated throughout the small establishment, the jostle of the line of patrons—including a small squealing child being chased by an older brother. No surreptitious picture-taking. One young boy ran up to Peter asking for an autograph, but he was direct. And Peter was delightfully playful with the boy.

Peter was not what she'd been expecting. Their brief encounter the other day had proven him more down to earth than she'd have thought a superhero would be. But he wasn't just approachable. He was relatable. Easy to talk to and poke fun at. Thoughtful and conscientious. And an absolute dork.

She really should stop observing him, or she might just start thinking things she shouldn't think.

"Spidey!" came a voice from Michelle's past. Eddie himself, a decade older than Michelle remembered, but his eyes still had that same spark to them, wrinkled with kindness. He stood behind the counter when they reached the front of the line. He was balding more than Michelle remembered, but his remaining hair was slicked back just like the old days. He had a flour-covered apron on, and a rag thrown over his shoulder. "The usual?"

"Only on half, Eddie," Peter said, and turned back to Michelle. "Do you know what you want?"

She would technically be breaking her dietary restrictions that she had for the film by eating here, but fuck that nonsense. She could have an extra cheat day. Before she could give her order, however, Eddie's eyes lit up. "Hey, I know you!" he said with a smile. Michelle resisted sighing, and couldn't help glancing around the restaurant to see that a few people _had_ started to recognize her. But then Eddie surprised her. "You used to come in here a long time ago!"

Michelle smiled widely. "You...you remember me from high school?"

Eddie grinned at her, and leaned forward on the counter. "Sure thing, kid. Though you've grown up quite a bit. Just like our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man here."

"Well, I only have fond memories of your pizza. Do you still do the barbecue chicken pizza?"

"Sure do!" Eddie said, and looked back up at Peter. "You sure you don't want a whole pie for yourself Spidey?"

Peter shook his head with a smile. "Nah, I'm trying to impress the lady. Can't reveal just how messy and gluttonous I am."

Michelle rolled her eyes—frankly more impressed that he generally ate an entire pizza by himself than any restraint he was showing now.

"Gotcha," Eddie said, writing the order on a piece of paper. "Want it delivered?"

Michelle frowned in confusion, and got no clarification when Peter nodded. He only bid farewell to Eddie, who nodded kindly at Michelle again, and then guided her out the door. "Where are we going?" she finally asked.

"Seemed just a little crowded in there, don't you think?"

Michelle shrugged. "We have to eat _somewhere_ Peter. Can't just keep bouncing from restaurant to restaurant."

He held out his hand to her. "Care to go for a climb again?" He nodded his head at the building they'd just exited. But towards the roof. Several stories up.

Michelle hated that she wanted to experience this again. Was it the exhilaration of the climb? The thrill of his arms securing her? She'd rather not dwell on it, really. Just enjoy it. She took his hand, and folded herself into him. His hand wrapped around her waist again, and he held her tightly to him.

Through some combination of a web and a jump, he was able to propel them halfway up the wall before she even knew what was happening, then she was holding her breath, staring at the ground down below them.

"Relax," he whispered. "I've got you."

She let herself breathe in the chilled autumn air, and though she still stared at the ground, now her eyes scanned the city she used to know so well.

It had been years since she'd been back here. She'd moved out a decade ago, and she'd gotten her dad a place elsewhere in the borough a few years after that. Even when she visited, it never made sense to visit this part of town. After just a few moments, Peter righted themselves on the roof of the building. Michelle noticed there was a table with chairs here. She briefly wondered if he had planned this little escape for their date, but she remembered his and Eddie's familiarity and realized this must simply be one of Spidey's 'spots'. She felt lucky to be invited here with him.

A half-wall that came to Michelle's navel ran along the perimeter of the roof, and Michelle leaned against it to look out at the city once more. It was strange looking down on the streets she'd walked as a teenager.

"Do you miss it?" Peter asked softly, noticing her gaze.

She shrugged. "It's a part of me. So I love it for that. But I like who and where I am in my life now. How about you?"

"I miss things about my life here. It was a simpler time—before people knew who I was. Before we were forced to move my aunt and me into a location with Avengers protection."

Michelle had, of course, read up on all of this. First when she was in high school and there was all the buzz about the Peter Parker kid from Midtown being Spider-Man. But then again this past week, trying to get a feel for who this guy was exactly. After Quentin Beck had outed Peter—and turned a significant percentage of people against him in the process—Peter and his aunt had been forced to move. Sadly, it wasn't until this moment that Michelle even considered how Peter would feel about that. He'd always just been Spider-Man to her. And like every Avenger, living in a certain place and performing a certain duty was just part of the superhero gig.

She felt horrible about never thinking about it now that she could see Peter's thoughtful face looking out at the city he'd called home. "What was it like?" she asked. "I imagine most Avengers don't have to go through all that while in High School."

"Some of it was cool for a seventeen-year-old, obviously. The bullies didn't know how to bully me anymore. I was popular. I had the best excuse in the history of excuses for being late to class or not turning something in on time." He grinned before letting it fall. "But...it was hard to trust any of my new relationships, you know? Were they into Peter or just Spidey? I hated having to uproot May's life. And I wasn't as close anymore to my best friend. Physically, I mean. Ned's still a big part of my life, but at the time things were just harder."

Michelle hummed. "I'm not sure if it's exactly the same thing, but I totally get having questionable relationships." She paused for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I mean, _our_ relationship has to take the cake on questionable motives though, right?"

Peter joined in the laughter and shook his head, almost like he was disappointed in himself. "Yeah, this has got to be one of the strangest things I've ever done."

"One of the?" Michelle said through her laughter.

"Well, once you've fought a genocidal titan with magic gems on a different planet, it's hard to compare normal strange against cosmic strange."

"Okay, that's fair," Michelle snorted. Then she took her chance to scratch the itch that had been bothering her since this whole arrangement was presented to her. "So why did you agree to this whole thing?"

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but his phone buzzed and interrupted them. Michelle wondered if it was the city in need of help, and if their "date" would be cut short. "Hold that thought," Peter said with raised eyebrows. Michelle nodded, and he leapt off the building.

Her heart momentarily stopped before she shook herself. It was silly, but he was so easy to talk to that Michelle found herself forgetting he was Spider-Man. She shifted her weight on the half-wall so she could watch him gracefully land down below with the aid of some webs, take a box from Eddie, and then shoot back into the air. He was much less careful with the pizza on his way to the roof than he'd been with her. She appreciated that.

He hurdled the wall and landed back where he'd been just a moment earlier, and Michelle had to school her features not to show her amazement of him. It was one thing to see these physical feats in a movie. Another to witness actual superheroes doing them on TV. But it was a whole other experience to see it right in front of your eyes.

"Want to sit?" he asked, motioning to the table. She followed him over, where he pulled out a chair for her. At her raised eyebrow, Peter only shrugged with a half-grin. "There may not be cameras up here, but my aunt raised me to try to be kind."

"Well thank you," she huffed, and sat down. After he settled across from her and opened the pizza box, Michelle prompted him again. "So, what do you get out of this fake-dating arrangement?"

Peter pulled a slice from the box and took a bite, looking thoughtful. Michelle took her own slice, and weighed it carefully in her hands. Obviously, she'd had this kind of pizza in the last ten years. But this was _Eddie's_ pizza. She took a bite and allowed all of the memories associated with the taste to flood right back into her. It was strange and wonderful and also tasted just as good as she remembered.

"How much do you know about me?" he asked. "Like, the whole Mysterio thing, and my relationship with the city?"

"I was right here when it all went down," Michelle said, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of where she used to live. "So I was pretty aware of it all back then. Haven't kept close tabs since then though, sorry."

Peter put his hand to his chest, wounded, with a glint in his eye. "Ms. Jones! How dare I not be your top priority."

"You'll get over it."

Peter smiled at her and took another bite. He hadn't quite finished swallowing before he spoke again. "New York has generally liked me. But those first few months before the Avengers got my innocence all sorted, a decent chunk of them turned on me."

Michelle remembered the rising popularity of J Jonah Jameson and his inexplicable crusade against Spider-Man. Well, it was inexplicable until Michelle saw the ratings spike for his show during that time. It was sickening. She'd had similar experiences on a less life-threatening scale, of course. Ugly photos or pregnancy questions plastered on the front of magazines or flashy clickbait headlines online.

"Since then, there's been this constant, loud minority of New York that just wants to drag me through the mud for one reason or another. And normally I can tune it out. But this latest attack coincided with your agent's offer, and I kind of jumped at the offer before really thinking it through."

Michelle stopped, her next bite of pizza halfway to her mouth. "If you want out of this..." she started.

"No, no, no!" Peter hastily interrupted. "That's not what I meant. I'm rather enjoying this night out."

Michelle hated how relieved she was at his assurance. "Oh, okay." She flashed him a half-smile. "Me too."

He returned the smile. "Oh. Good."

"So what are the loud minority screaming about now?" Michelle said to push the conversation past the slight tension settling between them.

Peter sighed, leaned forward, and started playing at the edges of the box. She only now realized he had _somehow_ already finished his half of the pizza. Impressive. Michelle tried not to feel self-conscious as she took another bite, now eating alone. "Well, now they're upset I wear a mask," Peter said with a roll of his eyes. "Which apparently means I'm hiding something. Or Spider-Man is a PR stunt of the Avengers. Or who knows what else. It'll always be something. If I took off the mask they'd find an issue with that, too."

Michelle knew that feeling all too well. "If I make big budget movies, I'm a sell-out. If I do theater, I'm not reaching as many people or making as big an impact as I could."

Peter scoffed. "Exactly. Anyways, I thought this would be a nice compromise. Let Peter into the spotlight just enough that they can get off Spidey's case about the mask."

Michelle nodded, but was still confused about one thing. "So why wear the mask, Peter? Not many of your Avenger friends do."

Peter continued playing with the box. "When I started as Spider-Man, the mask was important to me to protect Peter. My family and friends, too, but a lot of it was selfish. I wanted to be able to go to school, crush on a classmate, and make friends without my other life impacting it all. Now?"

He paused again to smile. His gaze pierced her. "I think it's a bit like your job, but the inverse. You, Michelle Jones, play dozens of different characters. And even though people know it's _you_ when they see you play Zoe Hunt in Mission Impossible 9, you want them to see Zoe Hunt, and not Michelle Jones. I want people to play as Spider-Man. And even if they know it's me under the mask, I want them to see themselves. I think the mask helps them feel like it can be them under it, too."

Michelle's heart thumped in her chest pleasantly as she took a moment to admire him. She'd been cautiously optimistic that Peter Parker would be a pleasant enough person to experience this wild arrangement with. She hadn't expected him to be someone she could legitimately connect to.

"Well, I think it's admirable that you are trying to preserve Spider-Man's symbol—even if I'm not convinced you don't have ulterior motives of wanting to spend a couple months with me."

Peter laughed aloud. "Busted."

Michelle moved the conversation along after that. She didn't want to talk about her reasons for the arrangement yet, even though she could sense him trying to ask. After he opened up to her, she knew she would have to eventually. And she might even want to. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy some pizza and lighter conversation.

The chill of the autumn night caught up to them eventually, and at her first shiver, Peter offered to bring them back to the earth below. She held on to him tightly once more—but less out of fear this time. And as they lowered to the ground, her focus wasn't on Queens anymore, but rather on his hand around her waist. On the small smile on his face.

She texted her driver when they touched safely down. He was just a couple blocks away. She held her arms, and stepped back and forth in place to keep warm. Peter stopped himself as he stepped closer to her, arms reaching for her. Michelle wished he hadn't stopped. For the warmth, obviously. Or in case there was a smartphone recording nearby. Obviously.

"Happy might not be happy about our little detour tonight," Peter said with a smile.

Michelle grimaced. "Betty likely won't be happy either. She was expecting at least an hour's worth of pictures to be circulating the internet tonight."

"And you?" Peter said, with an adorable little swing of his arms.

Michelle's car pulled up. "I was kind of dreading tonight," she admitted, and smirked at him. "It turned out not half-bad."

Peter grinned. "Not half-bad, huh? I'll take it, I guess."

"Goodnight, Peter."

"Goodnight, Michelle." Peter opened the car door for her.

Michelle made to enter the car, hesitated, and bit her lip. Maybe it was being back in Queens. Maybe she just wanted him to feel at ease about all of this. "MJ," she said, extending the offer for the first time in years.

"MJ?" he quirked his head.

"My friends call me MJ."

He positively beamed. "Goodnight, MJ."


	3. The Bet

_It's the seventh time they've been spotted together. Winter has struck New York, but for Michelle Jones, things seem to be heating up! Don't worry if you've missed the latest, we've got you covered! Click the slideshow below to experience Jones and Spider-Man's romance with them_

_-Heating up in New York, buzzfeed.com_

"Might have been a rocky start," Betty said with a glare at Michelle through her phone. "But I think this has gone really well, don't you?"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Can you stop bringing up the first date? You know as well as I do that our stunt was _better_ than if we'd stuck to your stuffy reservations."

Betty smiled. "I know, I know. I was not prepared for the number of Spider-Man fans out there who knew Peter Parker would not be caught dead eating in a place like that."

Michelle hummed. And yet _she'd_ been the uncomfortable one. She'd been much more at ease on their "dates" since then. Maybe it was because Betty had picked their spots a little better. But more likely it was because she knew Peter now. He'd flaked on a couple of their meet-ups, but Michelle hadn't been put out about it. She felt a sort of contentment that she'd contributed in the smallest way possible to Spider-Man saving the city. She might be able to see how it would tax a real relationship, but she was rather fond of the apologetic phone calls she got from Peter, huffing in his mask as he swung away to the danger.

"But, like I said," Betty continued, and there was an odd tone in her voice as she observed Michelle's mind wander through their video call. Michelle really should just call without video from now on. "Things are going well, right?"

Very well. Too well. Michelle-is-in-trouble well. Not that she'd tell Betty that. So she'd deflect. "I still can't believe you sent us to play _tennis_. This guy has literal super agility, and you wanted me to play a sport against him?"

"But you had fun, didn't you?" Betty said, instantly deflecting her deflection. Fuck, she might need to get a new assistant.

Yes. She'd had fun. And even though his Spider-Man suit was as revealing as anything, it hadn't been too bad seeing Peter in some shorts and a tight t-shirt either. When Betty had sent her a few pictures and stories around the internet, she'd been embarrassed to admit she was looking at Peter with a little thirst in those photographs. Admit to herself of course. Everyone else in the know would be told that she was simply playing the part for the public.

"Well, you did good tonight," Michelle said instead of answering the question. "I haven't been to a Knicks game since I was a Junior in high school."

Betty looked pleased at the praise, which might have to be Michelle's go-to move to distract her. "Well, I'm glad. It's your first _truly_ public appearance, so a lot is riding on how you two behave here. This won't be a few pictures taken here and there. This is three straight hours of being watched. By cameras. Think you and Peter can do that?"

Truthfully, Michelle _knew_ they could do it. They hadn't been acting since that first date. At least she hadn't. And as talented as Peter was at things like tennis, she doubted he was a gifted enough actor or liar to pretend to be her friend the way he had.

"I think we can handle it, Betty."

Handle it, they did. Being in public with Peter was...surprisingly easy. Michelle wasn't sure if it was because they split the pestering fans between them, so it wasn't as much a drain on her. Or maybe he pulled more attention away, being in New York as they were. But really, Michelle realized, as they walked through Madison Square Garden, Peter just made things fun and interesting.

The way he acted with kids, especially, was a joy to watch. His lame jokes weren't lame to them. He reacted to their requests that he do a back flip with comical begrudging acceptance. He made an exaggerated show of his reluctance to show off, and the result was a charmed crowd, and a charmed Michelle.

When they finally got to their seats, after multiple signings and a few web-shooter demonstrations, the game was about to start. Knicks versus Lakers. The Champs were in town, and Peter buzzed with excitement. Michelle did too. Partly because they were just a few seats away from Spike Lee. She could appreciate a career like his.

"I didn't take you for a basketball fan," she muttered under her breath as they tipped off.

Peter shook his head. "I'm honestly not. Barely understand the rules. But it's just amazing to see this kind of elite athleticism up close."

Michelle scoffed. Sure, Paramount and Adidas—or some weird partnership like that—had secured them nice courtside seats, but..."Dude, you could literally dunk on any one of these humans."

"Yeah, but they do it _without_ enhanced abilities. Pre-abilities Peter wouldn't have been able to touch the net, much less dunk a basketball." She watched him with a smile. He had an endearing twinkle in his eye.

"Because you're so short?" she joked, poking him in the side. They were about the same height, but Michelle was fairly certain she had him beat without shoes.

Peter looked absolutely offended. "MJ! I'll have you know my height has nothing to do with it. It's because before the spider came along, I was absolutely hopeless physically."

Michelle grinned. "Well, good to know there at least _used_ to be something wrong with you."

She's not sure she meant to say it out loud. Complimenting Peter wasn't her thing. Her thing was sarcasm. That's how he was supposed to know she cared.

"Spend enough time with me, you'll find plenty wrong," Peter combated her nicety with a little self-deprecation. Yet another thing not wrong with him. She chose not to make that comment.

During the first timeout, Michelle noticed the cameras starting to scan the audience. A dance cam, it would appear. She hoped it didn't find them for this. Not because she couldn't dance, but because she was afraid of the scene Peter might cause.

Fortunately, a dance-off started between a middle-aged, overweight man with an embarrassed daughter next to him and a young teen with more moves than Michelle had ever seen at one of these things. Naturally, the crowd cheered loudest for the man doing the "lawnmower" and being unashamed of his ample belly.

Peter laughed along with her and the rest of the crowd, and when they settled back in to their seats, Peter put his hand on her thigh. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

Yes. His warm hand felt very nice through her jeans. He squeezed her gently when she nodded, and she leaned closer in to his side as play resumed.

After the next timeout, LeBron James walked over to where Peter and Michelle sat. He wiped his hands repeatedly on his jersey as he waited for gameplay to resume and the ref to give him the ball to inbound. He chanced a glance at the pair of them and gave a nod. "Jones, Spidey—big fan."

Michelle couldn't help feel a _little_ pride at the recognition from one of the game's best. Peter on the other hand could not _contain_ his excitement. "Oh my god, LeBron, thank you. I'm a _huge_ fan. Your game, your school, your work against voter suppression...it's just great."

He smiled. "I appreciate that, man. I like the way you save the world sometimes."

Peter nodded excitedly. "Well, glad to help. Just doing what I can with what I have."

"That's the hope," he agreed before the referee handed him the ball and play resumed.

"You are such a dork," Michelle whispered into Peter's ear as the game continued. He squeezed her leg again and smiled.

"Don't worry, babe," he said slyly. "In the GOAT debate of MJ versus LeBron, I will _always_ take MJ."

Michelle couldn't help her snort. "Definitely the biggest dork."

On the final timeout of the first half, the kiss cam made the rounds. She didn't know how she hadn't considered this possibility. Over the last three days since she'd learned of their plan for the night, _how_ had she not thought about this happening?

The truth was, Michelle had done nothing more than kiss him on the cheek to this point. She was not one to display her affections publicly, particularly because she was a public figure, so it would not be considered strange for the many watching cameras to never catch her kissing a partner. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd been caught before.

But here they were. And with every passing second, she became more confident that they would be the final couple to appear on the large screen in the middle of the arena. Her heart thudded. Could Peter hear that? Did his powers include super-hearing?

Why did it matter? She'd had dozens of on-screen kisses. This was no different. This was no different.

Her eyes caught a camera turning to them. She'd like words with whatever producer was whispering in that cameraman's ear to frame them.

The red light on top of the camera turned on. The crowd grew restless, and Michelle knew without looking up that they were on screen.

"Oh!" Peter said, pointing up at the screen. "Look!"

Michelle forced herself to see the proof. And there they were. They looked like quite the handsome couple, if she did say so herself. She was still tucked into him, an arm wrapped around his, his hand on her thigh.

She turned to Peter when she saw the image of him turn to her on screen. He had raised eyebrows—playful to the crowd. But Michelle saw the sincerity in his eyes. _Is this okay?_ his eyes asked, just as when he'd touched her leg. Michelle ignored her thumping heart, looked down at his lips, and nodded.

His free hand cupped behind her neck, thumb dancing on her cheek. Then Peter leaned in and kissed her.

It was, of course, a brief kiss. No more than a couple of seconds, lips chastely pressed together. But a shock ran through Michelle all the same. He pulled back slowly, a small smile on the lips that had just been hers. She wanted to kiss him again, but now wasn't the time or place. And she felt something settle unpleasantly in her stomach when she remembered there was no right time or place.

The sounds of Madison Square Garden came rushing back into her ears in a moment. Some whistles, cat-calls, ooohs and aaahs. Michelle simply leaned her head on Peter's shoulder as the camera lingered for a moment longer.

Play resumed shortly after, and Michelle's focus was not what it had been minutes earlier. Which was saying something, because her focus had not been great to begin with. At halftime, the Knicks led the Lakers by a few points. Which was odd. The Knicks were terrible. And the Lakers were the best team in the league. She didn't follow the NBA religiously, but she knew enough about her true home team and current "home" team to know the Lakers would win this game.

So when Peter proposed a bet, she knew exactly what she was doing, just as he apparently did.

"How about a friendly wager?" he asked while they watched a half-time show of a dog jumping through hoops and on a ball and on the trainer who stood on the ball.

"And what's that?"

"The Knicks have the lead, so I'll let you take them. And I'll take the Lakers."

Michelle narrowed her eyes. "And what are we betting?"

"Something simple," Peter shrugged. She saw a stiffness in his back that intrigued her.

"Like, if the Knicks win, I choose our next date?"

Peter nodded, and whispered softly. "Sure. And if the Lakers win...I get to kiss you again."

He turned his head and gave her a sly grin. Michelle tried to school her features. She tilted her head up at him. "You're on."

So Michelle became a Laker fan for one half of NBA basketball. She became more interested in the game too, now that she had rooting interest in it.

In the third quarter, Peter got called on to the court by the dunk team, who set up a trampoline and pads to do impressive trick dunks. Peter didn't use the trampoline, but dunked from the three point line—much to the crowd's enjoyment—before launching himself up onto the top of the backboard to take a bow for the fans.

The dunk team jokingly bowed in deference, and Peter waved lovingly to his city. It was as heartwarming as it was impressive.

As the game came down to the wire, the Lakers were still behind. LeBron wasn't having his best game, and no one else was stepping up. MJ supposed it was hard to get up for a game like the Knicks. While Madison Square Garden was historic, the New York Knicks had been awful for most of the last twenty years. And players probably liked to enjoy the city the night before playing here.

And for that, tonight, Michelle was furious. She was about to win a bet she didn't want to win because of the night life in the city.

Of course, she couldn't let her feelings be known to Peter. "Nervous yet, Tiger?" she asked when the Lakers called timeout down two with just a few seconds left.

"You know I've never believed the talk that LeBron isn't clutch. But if he doesn't come through for me here, I'm going to reconsider." His grin told her that he wasn't overly invested in the bet.

"Maybe you should tell him what's at stake," she joked.

"And blow our cover?" He shook his head. "Nah, but I will say it's kind of hard to cheer for the Knicks right now even though I know I need to for appearances."

"That's right. Wasn't the whole point of this relationship that you get the city fully behind you again?"

"And it's been working fabulously," Peter said. The horn sounded and the players moved from their huddle to take their positions as drawn up by the coach. Peter sat forward in his chair, and Michelle bit back a giggle.

Three seconds left. Inbound to LeBron.

Two seconds, hard dribble to the paint. Defenses collapse.

One second, a pass out to an open player Michelle didn't know.

The shot went up. Michelle held her breath. Peter clenched her leg. And the ball rimmed out.

The Knicks won.

Michelle won the bet.

"Fuck," Michelle said under her breath while Peter said it a little louder. Fortunately no one else in the arena heard as they cheered their team’s victory over the reigning champs.

A reluctant smile came to Peter's face and he turned to her. "Worth a shot, eh?"

Michelle was disappointed. But there was some relief, too. A kiss wasn't that big of a deal, but did she really want to risk complicating things here? And as flattering as it was that he wanted to kiss her again, Michelle knew it didn't mean a whole lot. Like her, she assumed he's been out of the actual dating scene while their arrangement played out. And like her, he was likely getting just a little...frustrated. A kiss might be simple, but it felt nice after going without for a while. Her reaction to their televised kiss earlier was proof.

"I'm sure you'll find another way to win a bet," Michelle encouraged him.

"With the Parker luck?" he scoffed. "Doubtful. But you won fair and square. So, MJ, where to on our next date?"

The crowd was starting to stand and exit the arena. The walk-off interview was concluding. Michelle fidgeted for a moment considering his question. She'd been planning on letting Betty drop the bombshell. But maybe it was best if she did it now. "You've probably got plans already for Thanksgiving next week," she said. "But on the Saturday after, my dad and I are having Betty over for a sort of second holiday. They haven't seen each other in years, and my dad thought it would be fun. And he...um, he wants to meet you."

Peter frowned. "Meet me?" Then it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh. You haven't told him it's fake."

Michelle felt a wave of shame run through her. She blushed. "I...I tried to, early on. But the thought of explaining to him why and what we are doing exactly was more daunting than letting him believe I had a two month fling with Spider-Man."

Peter grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Hey, don't even worry about it. I get it."

"Yeah. Well, you told May didn't you?"

Peter laughed. "Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to keep this a secret. One, because I'm a terrible liar. Two, she's married to the guy who helped set up this whole thing."

Michelle smiled. "She's married to Happy?"

"How have we not talked about this yet?" he asked, looking surprised.

"I guess most of our conversations have been professional?" MJ suggested, even though she knew that was a lie. She and Peter had talked about themselves _quite_ openly. Shockingly so, in Michelle's case.

"Well that changes next week," he laughed. "'Cause I'm meeting my girlfriend's father!"

Michelle groaned, and looked up to the ceiling. Or, at least to the giant screen in the middle of the arena. "Oh my god, you're going to make this insufferable, aren't you?"

"Should I be nervous?" he asked, pestering. "Is he the 'shotgun on the porch' kind of dad, or the 'dress up like a super villain and try to kill me' kind of dad?"

"Please tell me you haven't experienced those things," she sighed, already fearing the answer.

"Both, actually," Peter said with some pep in his voice. "But I'm sure your dad is great."

"He is. And you can bring May and Happy if you'd like. I'm sure Betty won't want to be feeling like a fourth wheel when my dad starts interrogating you."

"Aren't you supposed to be putting me at ease about this whole situation?"

MJ smirked. "That implies you _should_ be at ease."

Peter groaned, and pouted adorably. She looked at his lips, and damn it, why couldn't the Knicks have lost like usual?

-0-0-0-

 _My good listeners. You know me. You know that I can admit when I am wrong. That is what makes me the reliable journalist that I am. So let me be clear—Peter Parker_ is _Spider-Man. Of course he is. Remember that I am the one who broke the news in the first place ten years ago! My doubts and all of my questions I raised were simply to keep the good people of New York vigilant. Because even though Parker's showboating at the wonderful Knicks game showed he's got the skills of Spider-Man, need I remind you he was sitting on his ass for three hours? What happened to his so-called responsibility to the city? And what happens when his femme fetale returns to LA? Will she take him away from his so-called beloved city? Stay vigilant, people!_

_-J Jonah Jameson, Just the Facts_

The after-Thanksgiving meal smelled delicious. And it wasn't turkey, as Peter feared. He loved turkey, of course. But he'd just nearly eaten a whole one himself two days earlier.

"Hey Peter," MJ said, kissing him on the cheek as he stepped into her father's home.

"MJ, this is Ned," Peter said. There'd been a change of plans yesterday when Happy had surprised May with a trip to the Caribbean. May had been thrilled, of course, but also devastated that she wouldn't get to meet MJ. Peter had to endure countless knowing looks every time he talked about MJ with May. No amount of assurances that they were just friends and this was a fake relationship could convince May that she didn't see something more in the way Peter talked about her.

As MJ reached for his coat, and their hands brushed, Peter could admit to himself there was truth to that.

"Hey man," MJ said, also reaching for his coat as Ned shrugged it off his shoulders. "It's nice to finally meet you. Though this one talks about you enough, I feel like we've met."

Ned beamed. "Well then we're already best friends, 'cause he won't shut up about you!"

"Okay," Peter said, trying to play off his embarrassment. It was a good thing May couldn't make it, really. She'd have been unbearable. "How long do I have before you two team up against me."

MJ checked her wrist, where a beautiful watch loosely hung. "You have...three minutes. I'd suggest you meet my dad in that time, or we'll be sure to make it a bad impression."

"MJ," Peter whined.

"Clock's ticking, Peter," Ned said with a wink.

And Peter's heart warmed at the smile MJ threw Ned. Two of his favorite people, coming together. He felt a tug in his chest for this brief scene to last much, much longer. To be repeated many, many times. Then MJ leaned in and ripped that warmed heart through his tugging chest to whisper, "Just remember my dad doesn't know this whole thing is fake. So play along, yeah?"

"Of course," Ned said when Peter didn't, or couldn't, respond right away. MJ turned away to hang up their coats and Peter stared after her.

"Dude," Ned said. "Michelle Jones is...kind of awesome?"

"Told you," Peter sighed, and followed after his 'girlfriend' into the kitchen.

Mr. Leonard Jones was a large man. He stood several inches higher than Peter at least, and he looked like he could hold his own in a wrestling match with Peter's Avengers friends upstate. Which did not fit the "nerdy and quiet" description MJ had given him. Standing next to MJ, Peter couldn't quite understand how his genes could be in someone so lithe. She got his height, Peter supposed.

"Well, well, well," the man said with a grin as he looked at Peter. "If it isn't the famous boyfriend I've heard so much about. And not from my daughter, unfortunately."

He gave MJ a good-natured glare, but then turned back to Peter with a very friendly face. He extended his hand to Peter. Only Thor's handshakes made Peter feel so small.

Which was absurd. Peter was one of the strongest people on the planet.

"It's good to meet you, sir," Peter said, managing to remember his manners. "Peter."

"And you can call me Leo."

Peter introduced Ned, and caught a glimpse of MJ watching him, an indiscernible look to her gaze. Scrutinous, and calculating, and something else.

Betty arrived shortly after, leaving Peter briefly with Ned and Leo. "So, Leo, MJ tells me you're a chemist?"

"MJ!" he exclaimed, clapping his massive hands together. "'Chelley gave out her old nickname to you?"

To combat the severe warmth and butterflies in his gut at Leo's words, Peter tried to downplay it. "Well, I wasn't given 'Chelley', so there's clearly some work to be done." Truthfully, her dad's elation at hearing the old nickname made him feel every bit as honored and happy as the first time she'd told him to call her MJ. Maybe even more, for how rare the title apparently was.

Leo waved his hand. "Nah, I call her 'Chelley' against her will. 'MJ' is the much bigger honor. At least it was a decade ago. Haven't really heard it since my little girl made it big." He looked proudly down the hallway, where Michelle and Betty's voices carried. "But yes, sorry, I am a chemist. I work to keep the water in New York clean."

Ned gasped. "So we have _you_ to thank for our wonderful bread."

Leo laughed. "That is the theory. And we like to think so down at the plant."

Peter leaned forward. "So what's the secret to keeping the calcium and magnesium out of the—"

Michelle walked back into the kitchen with Betty and cut him off. "No, no, Peter. What did I say? No nerd talk at the table."

"I thought you were referring to Star Wars talk?" Peter said, a grin pulling at his lips.

MJ rolled her eyes, and Leo clapped again. " _And_ he likes Star Wars?" he exclaimed. "No wonder she hasn't talked about you. She was afraid I'd want to steal your time from her."

Peter thought it was going really quite well, if he did say so himself. But once again, he caught the uncertain look in MJ's eye as she watched the two of them. Even if she did it with a smile.

MJ introduced Betty to Peter and Ned. Peter was grateful to finally meet her in person. You could only vibe with someone so much sharing a Zoom call with Happy to meticulously plan a fake relationship. She was a little rigid at first, and Peter realized as they started to pile their plates with food that she was uncomfortable with the lie. She kept glancing at Peter and MJ, like she wanted to say something to them, but then her eyes would dart to Leo and she'd shut her mouth.

Peter wasn't sure what it said about him that the lie was easy to perpetuate at this point. Was it practice? Was it that he didn't have a previous relationship with Leo? Michelle seemed a little put off tonight, too. He put his hand on her leg and gave her a comforting smile. She returned it.

Maybe it was that it wasn't fake to him. Sure, the term "boyfriend" might be a false title. But Peter wasn't putting on a show in public any more than he was now. He genuinely enjoyed his time with MJ. He genuinely cared about her happiness. He considered her a real friend, so there was actually very little to hide from Leo.

Fortunately, Betty and MJ started to loosen up throughout the meal and the night. Peter thought Ned was to thank for that. Unassuming, funny, controlled the room because he didn't try to—all despite being the oddest man out in this situation. And Betty seemed to take a liking to him. By the time dessert rolled around, MJ, Peter, and Leo seemed to be having one conversation while Ned and Betty were lost in their own.

"So, have you two thought about what happens after Christmas?" Leo asked, scooping a bit of cherry pie carefully on his fork.

"Christmas?" Peter asked, pulling his eyes from Ned and Betty. "What happens at Christmas?"

"I'm flying back to LA on Christmas," MJ admitted.

Peter had thought it would be after the New Year for some reason. They'd always just said 'at the end of the year' to indicate when MJ would be leaving New York. It was silly, the way his heart sunk over a lost week. He tried not to let it show. This would be something they would have talked about by now. "Oh right. I still don't understand why you chose to fly _on_ the holiday. Could've given us a few more days at least, MJ."

She took his hand resting on the table in hers and squeezed it. An apology? Telling him it was a nice enough save?

"I know it," Leo sighed. "But she's got her people back in Hollywood now, and she 'wants to be settled for the new year.'" His finger quotes indicated he'd had the same argument with her over her departure time. "So? Have you talked about it?"

They had talked about it. At length. With Happy and Betty, who had actually looked up from her conversation with Ned with concern in her eyes.

"Dad...we've talked a little," MJ said softly. Peter followed her gaze to their entwined fingers on the table. "But this is still really new. Don't...don't go bursting our bubble yet."

There _was_ something bursting unpleasantly in Peter's chest, though he wasn't sure MJ meant to so accurately describe his state. "We'll...we'll figure it out," Peter said, trying to infuse an unfounded hope in his words. Leo's frown indicated that Peter failed.

Leo seemed to get the hint, and left the conversation at that. The evening took a much-needed pleasant turn after dessert, filled with light-hearted games and drinks in the sitting room. Betty and Ned seemed to burrow further and further into their own world throughout the night, and Peter smiled at his friend. Peter just hoped he didn't fall too hard for the LA-bound girl and find himself in the same predicament as Peter did.

Well. Not the exact same. Ned actually had a shot with Betty. He and MJ were what they were.

"They're cute, don't you think?" MJ said to him when games had stopped, and conversation indicated the night was almost done. She was curled into his side on the sofa, his arm wrapped around her. He turned his gaze from his friend and Betty, and nodded. Then got an idea.

"Wanna make a bet?" he said slyly.

MJ's eyes glinted, and she leaned back slightly in his half-embrace. "What do you have in mind?"

Peter knew Ned. Knew how he operated. The man needed _time_ for these sorts of things. There would be a Facebook friend request tonight. Instagram or Twitter in a couple weeks. A few playful but safe back-and-forths. And the next time she was in town, _that's_ when he'd ask for her digits.

"A kiss says Ned doesn't ask for her number tonight," Peter said casually.

MJ looked back at the pair, deeply engrossed in conversation about _something_. Or maybe nothing. Either was good.

"You're on, Parker."

It wasn't thirty seconds later when Peter saw Ned and Betty pull out their phones and exchange numbers. Peter groaned and MJ peeled with silent laughter, burying her face in his chest. It would appear _this_ would be as much intimacy as he could expect. He tightened his arm around her and let himself smile. Because this was a nice amount of intimacy, too.

"You're really bad at this betting thing," she told him when she pulled back, bright smile on her face. He so desperately wanted to kiss her. But a bet was a bet.

"I know," he grumbled, and forced himself to stop looking at her smiling lips. He looked up to see Leo watching them, a soft smile on the man's face. Peter felt a pang of guilt for misleading the man. Maybe that's what MJ had been feeling all night. Then again, holding MJ like this—it wasn't for show. He'd like to think that when this was all over and they became cross-country friends, they would get together when occasion permitted, and they would be able to sit together in comfort and enjoy an evening together. Like this. Because this was really nice.

Ned offered to walk Betty out to her car when it arrived, and told Peter not to worry about meeting up again before going home. Peter lingered a little longer, as a good boyfriend should.

"Well Peter," Leo said with another handshake. After the evening together, the man seemed less imposing. "It was great to meet you. It's hard not to have an impression of someone like you already. But I much prefer the real you."

Without thinking much, Peter pulled MJ into his side again and smiled at her. "I know the feeling, Leo."

MJ rolled her eyes, but Peter saw the blush rise to her cheeks. She stepped forward to hug her father goodbye. Peter helped her put her coat on, took her hand, and they left together.

Michelle's driver was waiting for her. They stopped outside her car. "Do you, uh, need a ride anywhere?" she asked. Peter let himself believe the offer was because she wanted to spend a little more time with him.

But he shook his head. "I wanted to do a quick patrol. I don't get out to this area too often."

She nodded, but didn't really make a move to enter the car. "You've got to get better at your bets, Peter," she said, a shyness crossing her features.

Peter's heart thudded in his chest. He stepped closer to her. "Maybe I'll start doing the opposite of whatever I think is right. You know the Lakers are much better than the Knicks though, right?"

"I knew," she said, and bit her lip. "Luckily I never said what I'd get if I won the bet today though."

She leaned in closer. Peter tucked her hair behind her ear. "So. What do you win?"

She closed the meager gap between them and kissed him. Like at the game, the kiss was chaste. In the back of Peter's mind, he knew Christmas was looming. This couldn't be more than two people enjoying each other's company. Enjoying a brief and safe connection.

But unlike at the game, this kiss was for _them_. Her lips slid against him, deepening just enough for Peter to know she enjoyed it just as much as him. Her hands gripped at his biceps as he cradled her face in his. The kiss broke, and she sighed against his lips. And then she pulled back, slow. God, was she beautiful.

"Goodnight, Peter."

His heart still thudded in his chest. It was painful despite his elation. Each heartbeat a second closer to the end. Of a fake relationship.

He opened the car door for her, not quite sure he remembered how to breathe properly.

"Goodnight, MJ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you call me out on it, YES, I put LeBron James in a fic solely so I could use the line "In the GOAT debate of MJ versus LeBron, I will always take MJ." And I will take no criticism over this, thank you.


	4. The Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some spice in this chapter. If it's not your thing, the build-up is pretty obvious, so you can stop reading when it's going to happen.

_All I'm saying is that I can't be the only one who finds the timing suspicious. The second I start questioning the man behind the Spider mask, suddenly he has a famous girlfriend? He's making appearances at Knicks games and Movie Premieres and the Tonight Show with his new lady friend? After years of relative secrecy, Peter Parker decided to go after the one man who hasn't been afraid to question him and his motives: me! This is a coordinated attack against investigative journalism, and I won't stop, no matter what declining ratings I see!_

_-J Jonah Jameson, Just the Facts_

"Oh Michelle, it is so good to finally meet you!"

May pulled MJ into a hug, and Peter smiled fondly at the two of them. His smile was, of course, accompanied by the usual ache in his chest. Such was the norm whenever he was around MJ now. She made him happy—deliriously so, at times. But then he'd remember what all of this was. And that today was Christmas Eve. And that it would all be over tomorrow.

Having MJ in his aunt's home only amplified the feelings. May had been pestering him for a month—and doubled her pestering after he'd told her about meeting MJ's dad. He'd tried to explain that he _needed_ to meet her dad for the cover to make sense, but MJ didn't need to meet May. She knew it was fake.

But May would not be denied, and Peter finally worked up the courage to ask MJ over for Christmas Eve with his small family.

"You too, Ms. Parker," MJ said, pulling back from the hug with a warm smile on her face. She'd told Peter on many occasions how wonderful a woman May seemed to be—based on his descriptions and stories of her. And, in one of her moments of weakness that Peter lived for, when she'd said May would have to be amazing to raise someone like Peter.

Peter loved MJ's sarcasm and unrelenting teasing. It was fun and funny, and he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to do so. Plus, it made the tender and genuine moments that much better.

"Please, call me May," Aunt May replied. "And come in. Come in. I'm so happy you could come. I hope I'm not taking you from your family?"

Michelle shook her head. "We've got plans for tomorrow. I'm more than happy to spend Christmas Eve with you. Although, I had to admit I was surprised by the invitation Peter extended while we were celebrating Hanukkah."

They all chuckled together. "Yes, well, in this house we celebrate a little of everything," May said, and ushered them out of the entryway and down the hallway. "Ben and Peter's father were Jewish, and his mom and I were both Catholic. None of us were all that religious though, but we all had traditions we loved and were important to us. Peter and I have continued to share our traditions with each other. So I laid off pestering Peter about you as a gift for Hannukah, and he asked you here as a gift to me for Christmas!"

Michelle laughed, and caught Peter's eye.

His feelings for her were no secret. Well, the depth of them may be. And her feelings for him were no secret. Well...Peter didn't actually know how deep her feelings ran. All he knew was that when they walked under the mistletoe when the hallway opened up to the kitchen and dining area, and May pointed at it with a "gotcha" look on her face, Peter and MJ weren't embarrassed to lean in for a kiss.

She smiled against his mouth, and when they pulled back, Peter whispered, "Sorry about May. You may have to endure this kind of stuff all evening."

She winked at him and licked her lips. "I'm looking forward to it."

Now in the kitchen, Michelle finally met Happy in the flesh. The man was his usual self, somehow genial and stand-offish at once. Insecurely secure, and angrily happy. Peter loved him. And based on Michelle's half-smile at meeting him, so did she.

And the evening went about as well as he'd feared it would. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd held out hope that MJ and May wouldn't get along, no matter how ridiculous a thought it was. That way, when she hopped on a plane tomorrow, and flew out of his life, it wouldn't hurt so bad. After all, he could never sustain a relationship with a woman that didn't like May.

But she loved May. And May loved her. They seemed to have inside jokes within five minutes of dinner starting, had the same sixth sense for when to give Peter a hard time and when to give him that sincere smile. And it didn't take May half an hour to get MJ to open up about something that he'd stopped hinting at a month ago.

"So, MJ," she asked when plates pushed to the side and a small glass of wine had taken their place. "Peter has explained his whole reason for this arrangement, but he hasn't told me yours."

Peter made to tell off May for asking such a personal question, but MJ answered immediately.

"It was for a movie," Michelle said, and she looked at Peter, something of an apology in her eyes. "It sounds a little silly to say it out loud. I wanted my movie to do well."

"The one you and Peter went to last week?" May said, making no judgment on the silliness of it.

MJ nodded. _Wanted by the FBI_. Peter had absolutely loved it. And Michelle's performance was out of this world. "It didn't have a big budget," she explained. "And what marketing dollars they did have were put towards Oscar publicity. The studio's goal was to make it an Oscar darling, and hopefully the general audience would come after that."

Peter recalled how tense MJ had been that night. He'd held her hand, and told her comforting things. He thought at the time she was nervous about what her performance would look like. Maybe she'd already been thinking about her Oscar chances. But something in her tone now told him she _hated_ the Oscar talk.

"When Peter 'saved' me, my assistant pointed out what that publicity was doing for the movie's hits and projections. And...I just really wanted people to see this movie."

She looked at her wine glass, swirling the liquid around inside, thoughtful. Maybe embarrassed.

"What's it about?" May prompted, voice soft.

The movie just opened up in wide release for the holiday. May and Happy weren't big movie-goers, so it was understandable she hadn't read up on the Angela Davis Biopic. Full of her upbringing, arrest, court cases. Teaching and impact.

"Freedom and courage," Michelle said, looking up to May, a fire in her eyes. "It's about finding truth and conviction in ourselves and the courage to show it."

Peter swallowed, watching MJ speak not a word about plot or even character, and _feeling_ every word punch him in the gut. "It's about the human spirit rising above ignorance and hate and racism. It's about perseverance in the face of active adversity. And I really wanted people to experience that."

She looked over at Peter, then, fire still in her eyes. And Peter knew it wasn't just MJ who didn't realize the depth of his feelings for her. Peter was in love, and only now realizing it.

She cleared her throat. "Early releases did really well," she said, returning to swirling her wine in the glass. Peter wasn't fooled by her nonchalance, though. Her other hand was fisted under the table on her leg. "And the wide release this week blew out expectations, so...I guess it worked."

Peter placed his hand on hers under the table and she slowly unclenched her fist, turned her wrist, and interlocked their fingers. He squeezed her hand. He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to tell her with his comfort. That their arrangement was okay? That he thought her goal was a worthy one? That he appreciated her passion? Probably all of it and more. She squeezed his hand in return.

"Well, we'll just have to see that, won't we Happy?" May said. Happy grunted his agreement.

"And Peter's approval rating in the city has gone _way_ up," the man contributed.

"Happy!" Peter exclaimed. "I told you not to call it approval rating! It makes me sound like a politician."

Happy rolled his eyes. "Fine, the people like Peter again. So yay!"

MJ snorted, and her shoulders seemed to relax.

The evening was wonderful, and Peter wished he hadn't fought May so long about meeting MJ. They were two of his favorite people, and even though the sight of them together hurt Peter in an indescribable way, they also brought a wide and lasting smile to his face.

When it was time to leave, May walked ahead of them to pull their coats out of the closet. Peter tugged MJ's hand as they walked, and she stopped, looking quizzically at him. "What's up?"

Peter literally pointed up. The mistletoe, again. Michelle rolled her eyes, even as a smile came to her lips. "You are such a dork. Your aunt isn't even making us do this."

"I know," Peter said, and his heart hammered against his chest. Wanting this kiss felt so different to him.

She sighed dramatically, but leaned in to kiss him with a smile anyway.

And the kiss _was_ different. Because Peter wasn't kidding himself anymore. He cupped her face in his hands, and poured _everything_ he had into her. He wasn't sure his adoration of her could be conveyed in only this matter, but he tried anyway.

She tasted like wine and the apple crumble they'd just had for dessert. She was soft under his lips, but persistent when she felt that something was unique about this kiss. Her hand clenched his shirt at his chest, and she pulled him impossibly closer, slanting her lips against his more aggressively.

She let out the lightest of whimpers when they separated, but Peter kept his eyes closed and pressed his forehead to hers. He felt her hurried breaths against his lips.

"Merry Christmas, MJ," he managed to say, and pressed another soft kiss to her lips before pulling back.

-0-0-0-

_It is well known at this point that Spideychelle—as dubbed by the internet, we don't make the rules—is America's latest celebrity couple obsession. But I think it's time we start asking the obvious. Because Michelle Jones is Hollywood. And only the Yankees and big apples are more New York than Spider-Man. Reports are that Michelle Jones will be returning home to LA by the New Year. Look through the slide show below and tell us: can this couple survive long distance?_

_-An End Before They Even Really Started", eonline.com_

Michelle sighed, staring up at the big and beautiful Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. The weather was cold—freezing even. The cloudy sky threatened snow. She'd be back here at 30 Rock next month to host SNL. Despite the beauty of the scene and the moment, she idly wondered why she was here at all right now. Her movie had come out. Peter's popularity was up and J Jonah Jameson's latest crusade had failed spectacularly, any others of his ilk having backed off the latest attack on Spider-Man.

Peter wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, and they looked at the beautiful lights together. Michelle put her hands over his around her middle and tried to breathe through the tension. The tension that had been surrounding them since he'd kissed her an hour ago at May's. The tension that had her concerned for her health and perhaps in need of a cardiogram, for how abnormally her heart had been behaving.

She guessed that Betty had set up this last public 'date' for Peter and Michelle to go on as a gift of sorts to Michelle. The knowing look in her eye had been insufferable when she'd told Michelle about it, and Michelle had to resort to teasing her about Ned in order to shift the focus off of her and her impossible feelings.

She'd accepted who she and Peter were. Trusted friends who could maybe be something more in normal circumstances. Could maybe try a real relationship if this one didn't have a lie to start it and a countdown to end it.

Their connection was real, of that there was no doubt. She'd opened up to him about more than she could ever remember telling a partner. He got along with her dad. And she fell instantly in love with May.

Their attraction was also real. They may have conveniently limited the physical to kissing—and chastely, at that—but she noticed the way he drank her in sometimes. And it was no secret Peter Parker was hot, and she'd dreamed about touching his body her fair share.

She shook her head. Because the way he'd kissed her...it didn't line up with what she'd accepted. And even now, the way he held her and the gentle sway of his body with hers, something had changed tonight. With him, with her, with _them_ , she wasn't sure. But the thickness in the air was so palpable, Michelle couldn't quite take a full breath.

It began snowing. On fucking Christmas Eve and in Peter's arms, it started snowing. Michelle would scoff if she weren't frustratingly enchanted by it. Peter gripped her tighter. She needed...out. Or in. Or _something._

She turned around in his grasp, and he leaned back, but kept his hands around her, settling on the small of her back. The Christmas tree lights from behind her reflected in his eyes as they darted across her face. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered. He reached up to tuck her hair back, and ran his fingers through it slowly. Michelle's eyes fluttered at the sensation.

There were countless people out and about, even on the holiday. It was New York, after all. But miraculously, they didn't bother Peter and Michelle today. Or maybe they _were_ taking pictures and videos, sending out tweets and stories. But Michelle didn't notice. Not today.

"Stop it," she said, swatting him gently on his chest. But her tone was much less playful than she intended. The tension was only building, and Michelle didn't think she could be playful right now. But she knew how this ended, regardless of the tension. "It's your last night with Michelle Jones, Peter Parker. What do you want to do?"

He studied her for just a moment, and the intensity on his face frightened her. "I want to take you back to my place," he said. "Open a bottle of wine. And see where the night takes us."

Michelle's heart, already dangerously irregular, skipped a beat. "Not what my 'boyfriend' would do, Peter," she said, swallowing. "Just you."

"Just me," he replied with meaning.

And despite the voice shouting within her to just say yes and rush to his apartment, Michelle grew angry.

"What are you doing?" she said, and then wriggled out of his grasp. He dropped his hands, but the intensity on his face didn't go anywhere. "What do you expect me to say to that?"

Peter shrugged. "I hoped maybe you'd agree. Or at least we'd have the conversation we've been avoiding for a month."

"Yeah, Peter," she whispered and shouted all at once. She pulled him along with her away from the tree, where there were no crowds, where she could be properly angry or excited or happy or terrified in peace. "We've had a month to say things, and you say things _now_? A _day_ before I leave? Why?"

He didn't respond until they were at a safe distance from people, and they'd stopped. His same intense look was still there, even if he was a little exasperated by her response. The snow fell around his stupid, pretty face, and Michelle wanted to scream and kiss him at the same time.

"I didn't say anything before because I knew you'd be leaving. It would be hard enough for this to end already. I didn't want to make it worse by deepening my feelings."

Michelle crossed her arms and looked past Peter at nothing in particular. "That's fucking right it would be hard enough. So why are you making it worse now?"

"It can't get worse," he said. Michelle's attention snapped back to his earnest and open face. "I'm crazy about you, and I will be no matter what happens tonight. But I know I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least tell you tonight."

Michelle's entire body shook, and barely from the cold. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd foolishly let them kiss. Again and again. But it always stopped there, even when there was longing in his eyes and lust in her heart, they _always_ stopped and said goodnight. 'I'm crazy about you' as an admission left some wiggle room, but the implications of his words were clear. And Michelle had to finally, honestly ask herself the questions she'd been avoiding if she wanted to respond to Peter tonight.

"I'm _leaving_ , Peter," she managed to say, shakily.

"I know," he whispered back. His eyes were glassy, and she could empathize with the stinging he must be feeling.

"Your life is here. Mine isn't anymore," her mouth said the words, but her mind wasn't on the conversation anymore. Always the actor, her mind played like an old-timey movie reel, scenes flashing in her head, almost without sound.

An embarrassed Peter, taking off the mask when he realized he hadn't 'saved' her from dangling off that building at all.

A thoughtful Peter, taking her hand and leading her out of an uppity restaurant she wasn't dressed for filled with people more interested in her than their meal, and to a rooftop of peace and reflection.

A playful Peter, who made Knicks games and Tonight Show appearances easy and fun instead of stressful performances and lies.

A genuine Peter, somehow lying to her father about their relationship without an ounce of guile, all while feeling so at home, like he belonged there. With her.

And a loving Peter, taking her hand at the most important movie premiere of her life, and telling her with his gentle touch and kind eyes that she would be great. That he was there for her no matter what. That what she did mattered and he was proud of her.

"I know," Peter responded to her statement, words that she felt like she'd spoken so long ago, when the world was a lot less clear.

"Take me back to your place," she whispered.

Peter's eyes widened, and he reached for her hands to take in his. "Yeah?"

She nodded. She couldn't say the same words he could. But she knew what she wanted.

He instructed her to straddle his legs. She raised an eyebrow. "Trying to get an early start on the night's activities, Peter?" she asked drily. "I'd really rather be in your apartment before any of that happens."

He snorted. "No, but this swing through the city will be a little bit longer than our last couple of trips, and I want you to be comfortable."

So she hesitantly did as he instructed, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders. "Comfortable?" he whispered into her ear, suggestive tone heavy in his voice.

"You're so dumb," she said to hide how thrilling the position was, even if only for what it promised. He was so sturdy, powerful under her. She felt like she could—

Her stomach dropped when he launched them into the air with a leap and a web onto the building above. And then they were swinging, weightless and flying one moment, heavy with momentum and plummeting to earth the next. After a few swings in which her breath was so stolen from her, she couldn't scream even though she wanted to, Michelle got her bearings.

The city flew by in a blur, and yet at each peak, the world stopped for one glorious second, and she could take it all in, and experience what Peter did every day. In that moment, Peter would swap his hand supporting her—an early preview of where she guessed his hands would be soon—and he’d shoot out a web from his other wrist. His web shooters had extended some sort of nano-tech fabric around his hands to keep them warm and protect his fingers from the strain of the webbing.

It was then that Michelle remembered it was snowing and frigid, and she carefully removed her hands one at a time from around his neck to tuck them inside his coat, run them up his back, and hold him at his strong, wide shoulders. Perhaps another place she'd find her hands before the night was done.

When they landed a few blocks later, Michelle was windswept and cold and turned on as all hell. Peter seemed to match her enthusiasm, taking her cold hand in his and all but jogging to the entrance of the building they'd landed at.

The door opened automatically for him, and Michelle assumed there was a scanner of some sort. She might have asked him in other circumstances. The lobby of the building was nice, but not garish. Again, she might think about how it fit Peter—supported by the Avengers, but without a single care about money or appearance. The elevator dinged, and let them in, and from the look on Peter's face, he didn't want to wait until they arrived at his floor. Neither did she. She stepped forward to kiss him, only to have a young family follow after them into the elevator.

Michelle could feel Peter deflate beside her, even as he threw on a grin and wished the others a Merry Christmas. Michelle bit back a groan of her own, and smiled at the situation and the young boy who excitedly pointed out Spider-Man to the apologetic parents. Michelle figured it was a rare site for them to see him in the elevator, even if he lived here. Without her company, he'd likely go straight to his window.

They reached his floor eventually, wished the family a _second_ Merry Christmas, and walked down the hall. The elevator had taken a _little_ urgency out of the air. Peter opened the door without a key, and this all felt a little silly for someone who supposedly had Avenger's level protection.

"Please identify additional occupant, Peter," came a female voice as soon as they entered his apartment, and the lights flickered on.

"Hey Friday, this is Michelle Jones. So power down your laser beams or whatever you have aimed at her head."

Michelle swiveled to him, eyes wide. "What!"

"Kidding!" he said hurriedly, shit-eating-grin on his face.

"No," the voice—Friday, apparently—said. "They weren't aimed at you yet, Ms. Jones."

"Call me Michelle," she responded weakly, as Peter took her coat from her shoulders. She shivered. The room was a nice temperature, but her trip here hadn't been. Peter ran his hands up and down her arms after hanging up her coat.

"Sorry, maybe we should've taken a cab or something," he said, eyes worried. "Friday, turn on the fireplace, would you?"

Michelle heard the click of a starter, and a fire burst alight in the sitting room just off to the side. She shook her head. "I think speed was more important than heat," she said.

Peter smirked. "Oh do you now?"

"Don't be dumb," she groaned.

"I'm just curious," he said. And his smile dropped. "I want whatever happens tonight to be _just_ what you want."

Michelle shivered, and leaned forward to kiss him. He gathered her close to him and welcomed the kiss, and she felt just like she had at May's. Like he was doing a hell of a lot more than just pressing his lips to hers. Like she could _feel_ how much he wanted her despite how pure and simple it was.

"Should I get the wine?" he asked, pulling away from her so little that his lips brushed hers as he talked.

She shook her head. "Let's just sit by that fire."

He pulled her to the couch, and Michelle felt the heat from the fire. It was nice. But also reminded her of the weird robot lady living in Peter's walls. "Is this Friday chick gonna be recording us or something?"

Peter laughed, and pulled her into his lap on the couch, sidesaddle. "I kid you not, I asked the exact same question when I moved into our first Friday home. Only I was seventeen and had to ask Pepper Potts, and I think we all knew I was asking about masturbation at the time."

Laughter spilled from Michelle, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned back on the couch. "Your non-answer is frightening me."

"Oh, right. No. The code specifically blocks her from recording or even seeing such things. I checked myself, and went through a lot of hoops to let Ned look through the code, too."

Michelle smiled and kissed him. "Well, it's a good thing I trust Ned, then."

He pouted, making his lips only more kissable. So they did. They kissed, and then it deepened. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, and his hands slid slowly up and down her back. She hummed her pleasure, and he pulled her tighter to him. She opened her mouth to him, and tilted her head for a better angle.

After a moment, she pulled back to breathe. "I can't believe we resisted doing this for a month," she breathed out, forehead resting against his. His fingers dipped under her shirt and he moved his lips to her neck, allowing her to straighten up and focus on the feel of him.

"I can't believe how in denial I was about how I really felt about you," he said between leaving hot and wet kisses to her skin. His fingers danced on her bare, lower back, and fortunately, his fingers weren't still cold like hers were. Instead, they left fire in their wake. And his words...well, they tugged at her, too. She feared them, and she desperately needed to hear more.

"You didn't always like me?" she asked, probing.

He pulled one of his hands from under her shirt and sweater, to tug at the material over her shoulder. More skin within his reach was a good thing, she decided.

"Always liked you," he muttered against her skin. Each word punctuated with a press of his lips or nip of his teeth. "Always knew how amazing you were. Funny, beautiful, brilliant." He lifted his lips from her clavicle, and stared at her, literal reflected and obvious figurative fire in his eyes. "Didn't let myself see your passion until tonight. Your strength and power." He pulled her down to his lips and kissed her again. "Didn't realize how in love I was."

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she kissed him hungrily, hands tugging at his hair, desperate to release her feelings in _some_ way because god knew she couldn't _speak_ them.

"Peter," she whispered. "Do you have condoms?"

"In my room."

"Then either bring them out here, or bring me to them. I need you."

The words weren't enough, she knew. Not to accurately qualify what she was feeling. But they were enough for Peter to stand up and shift her so she straddled him, and carry her to his bedroom.

He watched her the whole time. Well, when he wasn't kissing her. When he pulled back for a moment, and just stared at her. She thought the heart eyes emoji might have been modeled after him. And she didn't feel worthy of that gaze. Not when she couldn't say the words. Or _wouldn't_ perhaps. But he wasn't expectant. The whole night, he hadn't been expectant. He'd simply needed to tell her how he felt—he didn't _need_ something from her in return.

But as he lay her down on his bed, she wanted to give as much as she could. He pulled off his shirt, and climbed onto the bed after her. Michelle let her eyes wander as he held himself above her, occasionally dipping his head to catch her lips again.

He hissed when she reached out to touch him, and the muscles of his stomach twitched. She pulled her hand back. "Cold," he smiled, and took her still-frigid fingers, and pressed them to his skin. "Let me warm you up."

"So cheesy," she said, trying not to swoon.

He lowered his hips to hers, finally, and she felt his arousal against her. Heat pooled inside her, and she supposed he'd already done a pretty good job warming her up. He rested his entire body on her, and her hands roamed the hot, muscled expanse of his back while his kisses turned filthy. He explored the inside of her mouth, pulling back when they needed to breathe, only to nip at her lips. Michelle felt herself rolling her hips against him, desperate to relieve the building ache between her legs.

"Peter," she moaned. "Let me...too many clothes," she managed to say.

Rather than separate from her, he simply rolled them over so she was on top of him, gripping at her waist to keep her close. She resumed the rock of her hips and lifted her arms when he pulled at the hem of her sweater. He didn't just pull one layer off, though, and Michelle found herself in only her bra. Peter stared up at her, eyelids heavy with lust, drinking her in. "Fuck me," he whispered, and his hands moved up from her waist to the bare skin of her stomach. "You are so, so beautiful." His fingers trailed slowly over her ribs, and she felt each dip and rise as they crept higher and higher. She leaned forward, hands on his unfairly strong chest, and threw her hair over her shoulder. Peter groaned, and he abandoned his slow pace to cover her breasts in his hands, and squeeze.

Unwilling to wait for him, Michelle reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and Peter greedily let the garment fall from her body. He didn't grope her again, but simply stared instead. "This is much better than in your movie," he said with a grin. Michelle rolled her eyes. She wanted to doubt his words—movies allowed for perfect lighting and angles and makeup, after all—but when he shifted up on a forearm and brought his lips to her chest, Michelle knew he wasn't lying.

He reached his free hand up, gently cupping one of her breasts and brushing her nipple with his thumb while his mouth closed around her other. Michelle whimpered at the sensations rushing through her and started rocking against him harder, faster. She wound her hands deep in his hair. "Peter, your mouth." The comment had no purpose except to tell him she liked it. His mouth. He pulled back after a moment with a grin, and she glared at him for stopping.

"You approve?"

"I did before you stop—" he cut her off with another spin, this time to put her underneath him again. His lips found her other breast and gave it the same treatment, gliding his tongue across her hardened nipple. Her breathing hurried when he kissed lower, under her breast. Lower, down her stomach. Lower, pausing at her waistline. He peered up at her, question in his eyes. She nodded frantically.

He wasn't hurried in his movements, but Michelle saw the way his fingers trembled slightly while he worked at the button on her jeans. His nerves or excitement or whatever it was brought a smile to her face. But her smile dropped when Peter got the button, and he pulled all of her remaining clothes from her body in one hurried and desperate move.

"Eager?" she tried to say with a chuckle, but the look in his eyes was not funny. She squirmed under his intense gaze, and the heat deepened when he licked his lips.

"Yes," he said, and dropped his face back to her stomach, kissing just below her belly button, his eyes looking up her body to find hers. "I've thought about this a lot."

"Me too," Michelle breathed out, and his kisses trailed lower. "Wait, Peter. Take off your pants, too."

His brow furrowed. "I don't need to be naked to go down on you, MJ." But his hands went to his pants anyway, and pulled almost violently at his belt.

"I know," she said. "I just...want you naked."

He smiled, and obeyed her, but she could see him observing her. Like he was trying to understand if that was the whole reason. And it wasn't. But how could Michelle possibly explain to him that she had problems being the most vulnerable person in the room? Especially after he'd said the words she couldn't? After he'd taken every step tonight that she hadn't been willing to?

Granted, when he dropped back down, fully naked with her, she _did_ like looking past his mop of hair and muscled back to the curve of his ass. And so she tried to focus on that benefit instead of her own hang-ups.

It was easy to stop worrying about all of it when Peter lowered even farther and covered her with his lips. She gasped out as the pleasure of his touch raced through her whole body, starting at her center where Peter's tongue dipped _just_ inside of her.

"Mmm," the rumble of his voice added shockwaves to the pleasure. "You taste so good, Em." His breath on her had her grasping at the bed cover, desperate for purchase. But he was only getting started. He looked so comfortable between her legs. And she wondered how many times he'd envisioned it in order to so easily fall into place there, fitting like a puzzle piece.

He had one arm thrown up over her middle, grasping at her hip. The other rested softly on her thigh, almost like it was there to feel her every movement. Her theory didn't seem so outlandish when she noticed his ability to discover what she liked and do it _more_ and _better_. Like the way his lips closed over her and sucked. She squirmed and keened, and he intensified it, his eyes darting up to look at her. But she could only hold his gaze for so long before she threw her head back and panted at the ceiling.

The building tension in her gut longed for release, but Peter wasn't chasing release just yet. His movements were slow and purposeful. "Please, Peter," she begged, and she'd be embarrassed about it later. But not right now. She could only feel his tongue and lips and the jerk of her hips to _please_ press harder.

He released her thigh to slide his finger inside of her. "Fuck, Michelle," and he rested his forehead on her pelvis, like he had to gather himself. Grateful once more that he was naked, Michelle watched him roll his hips into the bed to alleviate his own tension, his bare backside lifting and dropping. Watching him rut against the matress was shockingly hot, and the tension tightened even more inside her.

Then he collected himself enough to press his tongue back to her and pump knuckles-deep inside of her. Michelle's back lifted off the bed as the pleasure he gave swept through her. "Fuck, Peter! Faster!"

And maybe he was finally ready to obey her pleas. He pumped his finger in faster and faster, licking and sucking until she was right on the edge. "Do you want to come, Em?" he asked, voice raw. "You want me to make you fall apart?"

"Yes, Peter!" she cried out. He added a second finger, brought his lips back to her and quirked his fingers.

Eyelids closed, Michelle saw flashes of brilliant light and the tension snapped. Tension since he'd pulled her onto his lap this evening. Tension since he'd suggested they come back to his place. Tension since he'd kissed her under the mistletoe, when she knew something had changed.

Hell, tension from the moment he'd taken his mask of and carried her back up the side of a building two months ago.

His fingers pulsed inside her with the crashing waves of pleasure, and he whispered things she couldn't understand right now, his lips brushing her as he spoke. All she knew was how good he made her feel.

When she finally came back to herself, chest heaving, sweat on her forehead, she found Peter was still working her with her tongue and fingers. She was extra sensitive, but he seemed mindful of it in his ministrations. She hummed, and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Peter," she said softly.

He only hummed into her in response.

"Peter!" she chuckled, breathless when he dragged his fingers extra slowly inside of her.

He finally lifted his face up, wet with her. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused why she was stopping him.

She pulled him up to her to kiss him. He tasted like her, and she dug her fingernails into his back with a moan. "Get the condom," she said, when they broke their kiss.

"Yeah," he agreed, and rolled off of the bed to his dresser. She watched him, admired his naked form while he shuffled through his things in his drawer. The brief break in action allowed her to think about their situation, and she was shocked to find no apprehension about what they were doing. She might still be worried about tomorrow, but she wasn't worried about tonight. Peter turned back to her, tearing open the package, and Michelle could only stare admiringly at him. He was impossibly hard from going down on her, and any cooling from their brief respite was instantly undone at that observation.

He rolled the condom on, and climbed back onto the bed, crawling up her body, leaving hot, unfocused kisses to her calf, thigh, center, stomach, breast and neck. He claimed her mouth once more. "What do you want?" he asked her between kisses.

"This is good," she told him. She already knew there would be time for more later. Right now, she just wanted to feel his body on hers, and feel him inside of her.

He slid inside slowly and easily, his eyes not leaving hers. She wound her arms up his back, and gripped him at his powerful traps, holding on while he bottomed out inside of her. "Fuck, MJ," he groaned, his eyes shutting. "You are so incredible."

He pulled out slowly, and Michelle felt every inch of him dragging inside of her. She bit her lip and reveled in the feel of him. He rocked slowly back in to her, and his breaths puffed quick and sharp against her mouth. His pace was excruciatingly slow. He felt so good, but she needed more.

"Parker," she growled. "Don't torture me here."

His eyes snapped open and he smirked. "Michelle, I never would have thought you so demanding."

"Just this time," she admitted. "We can go slow next time."

His smile grew tender at her promise of next time. He kissed her. And then obeyed.

She should've been prepared for how quickly and powerfully and thoroughly a superhero could fuck her. But how _could_ she be prepared for an experience like that? His hips crashed against hers, over and over. The pleasure was punishing in its unrelenting pulse through her entire body. Together, their bodies inched up the bed until her head brushed up against the headboard. Peter expertly lifted her from the bed and propped her on his thighs, somehow never halting his thrusts. He knelt up, pulling her with him and kissing her hungrily. He muttered her name into her mouth, and she clawed at his back.

She cried out in the new position as he hit deeper inside of her , and the pressure built with each jerk of his hips. Michelle rolled in time with his thrusts, clenching around him. A pleasant guttural sound escaped his lips and he pulled her tighter to him. His movements, so steady and sure for so long, grew erratic. "Fuck, MJ, I'm gonna..."

"Me too," she gasped out, and bit into his shoulder. And she fell apart a second time, only this time she was wrapped so completely around Peter that she felt grounded in her elation. She felt every ounce of him—his tight, fit body; his release and shuddering breath; his love and adoration of her in the pant of her name—and it made her orgasm infinitely better.

They clutched to each other, knelt on his bed, bodies hot with sweat and passion. She hadn't thought about it in a hot minute, but Michelle was pretty sure her hands had warmed up in their activities. They pulled back enough only to kiss each other. Michelle didn't know what to say. What _could_ be said. Tonight couldn't be about tomorrow, but now that he was softening inside of her, tomorrow was calling.

"That was amazing," she whispered, stroking a hand through his hair. His eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch. His hands glided up and down her back, and the chill of being naked with a sheen of sweat started to reach her. So she snuggled closer to him.

"You're so incredible, MJ." He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

"You're not half-bad, yourself," she said with a laugh, repeating her words from their first 'date'

Peter bubbled with laughter, obviously remembering her earlier comment. Then he pulled back and looked up at her, pure earnest hope in his eyes. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked. "Let me try to improve."

Her chest filled with a hopeful energy, and she nodded. Maybe today could last a little longer. She got up to pee, leaving Peter to dispose of his condom and perhaps prepare another. When she returned, he'd pulled back the bedspread, and sat waiting for her in bed. She admired him for a moment, his smiling face and open expression. Words and feelings longed to escape her, but instead she climbed onto the bed, and on to him, and let the world and tomorrow drift away again.

Late into the night, they held each other close under twisted sheets, lying together in utter bliss and exhausted pleasure.

He hadn't brought up tomorrow. And she wouldn't either.

"Goodnight Peter, "she mumbled when his breathing grew regular against her shoulder.

She drifted into a peaceful sleep in his arms, with his slurred response ringing in her head."Goodnight MJ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Only one more chapter after this!


	5. The Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I'm so happy to be posting the conclusion to this fic to start 2021! May it be even better than 2020...

_Merry Christmas from those of us at BuzzFeed! We hope your holiday is as good as Oscar-buzzing Michelle Jones and Peter Parker's, seen below at the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree._

_-"Merry Christmas", buzzfeed.com_

When Michelle woke, it was to Peter tucked into her back, his arm thrown over her middle, and his warm breaths against her neck. The steady breathing indicated he was asleep, his hardened length pressed against her backside made her wish he wasn't. She sighed contentedly at the light soreness between her legs. It had been a few months since she'd been with someone, and no one quite so thorough as Spider-Man.

Peter breathed in sharply and he stirred, and Michelle didn't feel bad for waking him with her sigh. "Morning, Tiger," she hummed.

He pressed his lips to her neck. "Morning, MJ."

She wriggled against him, and he groaned. "This okay?" she asked.

"Hell yes," he said, and his hand lowered from her middle to finger at her slit. "Did you sleep okay?"

She nodded, allowing his fingers to send jolts of pleasure through her, waking her from her groggy state. She covered his hand with hers and guided his fingers. He was very attentive to her direction.

And just like the previous night, MJ put off thinking about what would happen later today. She let him bring her to orgasm. Begged him to slide inside while he held her back to his chest. And waved off his apologies minutes later when he pulled out and came on the sheets and she felt some of the hot fluid hit her back. But she didn't worry yet about her imminent departure. No, she wouldn't let herself do that yet.

Peter wiped at her back with an unspoiled part of the sheet, pressing kisses to her shoulder. "Can I clean this off a little better, Em?" he asked.

He led her to his shower, where they cleaned one another, slowly finding and touching and cleaning every inch of skin. She particularly enjoyed running hands over his wet, muscled back and over the swell of his ass. His body was like a perfect sculpture, and despite being satisfied by him over and over, she found herself turned on yet again.

After he brought her to release once more, and she held to him, burning from the hot water at her back and the waves of pleasure still rippling through her, she finally— _finally_ —let herself say it. "Peter, we need to talk about this."

He held her face in his hands, gave her the most sincere smile, and nodded. "Okay, MJ. What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm leaving tonight," she said. "I live in LA."

"And I live in New York," he conceded. "I understand why you would be worried about this."

"Are you not?" she asked, eyes wide.

His smile remained, and he traced his hand down her arm, letting his eyes follow. "I'm going to miss _this_ ," he said, vaguely gesturing at her body. "The physical. This was wonderful. You're everything and more than I could've dreamed. But I didn't fall in love with your body, MJ. I can still have your mind," he kissed her. "And your heart," his hand ran up her stomach and settled between her breasts. "From three thousand miles away."

MJ's heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. No doubt with his hand there and his super senses, Peter could feel it. This all sounded so easy when he said it that way. But she knew better. Right? "You want to try the long-distance thing? Peter..."

"I know it won't be easy," he said, and he was still so relaxed about it all. MJ thought it must be nice to have such conviction in what they were. "I also know I need to try. If you want to."

"This wasn't part of the plan, Peter," she groaned, but hopefully in a way that he knew wasn't a 'no', but rather just a tactic to buy her time. She buried her face in his neck.

He chuckled and seemed to understand, and ran his hand up her back, through the stream of water pelting her from the showerhead. "The _plan_ ," he drew out the word with sarcasm, "was for us to try to date long-distance, but for it to be too hard and fail. Officially split sometime in the next month or two. All I'm saying is we don't stick to that plan, and we actually _try_."

It was more than he was making it out to be, of course. He spoke as if it was a simple variation of what they'd already be doing. But now there were feelings involved. Concrete and confirmed, deepened and exposed. But if Peter was willing to jump, if he'd been willing to put himself out there every step of the way, Michelle could at least hold her breath and jump with him.

She straightened and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Okay, Peter. Let's do it."

He smiled wider than she had ever seen him smile, and wrapped her up in a hug that made her sure she'd made the right choice.

He fucked her especially well after that, to the point that MJ might actually be satisfied for the near future. Which was important, because she didn't want to shower a third time, and she knew they wouldn't see each other for some time after today. She invited him to spend Christmas Day with her and her dad, which Peter greedily accepted.

Compared to their Thanksgiving holiday, Christmas was perfect. Instead of a pang of regret and guilt to accompany her joy at seeing Peter and her dad together, Michelle felt only love. She found she could look her father in the eye when talking about her and Peter's relationship. And when he restated the question from nearly a month earlier, "so what's your plan?", she and Peter had an answer.

"We're going to try, Dad," she said simply. They sat together in her dad's sitting room, Peter and Michelle cuddled together on the couch, her dad in the armchair adjacent to them. The fire crackled pleasantly. "Long-distance relationships can be hard. But they can also be a refiner's fire."

Peter pulled her tighter against him and kissed her temple. She sighed contentedly, trying not to dwell on the time they'd lost pretending, and the time they'd lose when separated.

Leo smiled at them. "I'm really glad to see you two trying. I've seen how happy you are, 'Chelley."

His comment warms her, but also makes her feel so silly. How deluded she'd been to think a fake relationship and a simple friendship were all that she'd been experiencing.

"On the plus side," she says. "With me out of the way, you two will finally be able to be all nerdy together."

Peter laughs, and raises his eyebrows at her dad. "What do you say, Leo? We can keep our visits regular, and you can tell me all the embarrassing stories of Michelle in between Star Wars and water purification talk."

Her dad joins in the laughter, and Michelle can see the spark in his eye. She can't help but grip Peter's shirt tightly in her hand, bury her face in his neck, and _wish_ for more time.

But they were low on time. So low that they had to leave her dad's too soon. And each second was of the day passed in a blissful blur, but with a steady thrum of regret. Before her departure, they were sure to visit May, who was ecstatic when Peter revealed their new relationship status. She refrained from saying "I knew this would happen," too many times, and Michelle was too happy to care if she hadn't. Happy only took the news in stride, as if he, too, had seen it coming. MJ was sure Betty would be unbearable when she broke the news to her.

And then before she knew it, she was at the airport, and Peter held her in his arms one last time. "You're sure you can't change your flight?" he asked for the seventh time. She'd be annoyed if she didn't feel the same kind of desperate longing as him to stay.

"I purposely set up too many meetings for this week, Peter," she explained again. "At the time, I thought I wanted to hit the ground running to try to forget New York. Now I don't want to forget anything about New York." She pressed a sad kiss to his lips.

People at the airport had recognized them despite being bundled up in coats and beanies. Photographs were being taken—and if it still mattered, Michelle thought they might be the most impactful pictures yet. No acting classes could put Peter's look of sadness and happiness and resolve and indecision on his face. He was real, and their relationship was real, and the pain coursing through Michelle with each pump of her heart was real too.

Michelle called him when she landed. He called her again the next morning.

And so began the courtship of Peter and Michelle.

They fell into a familiar pattern—at least as much of a pattern as was possible when one person was an actor and the other was a superhero. They'd video call each other daily when it was possible. Peter would sometimes call her while he was out fighting crime, and she'd have to patiently wait in the middle of telling him a story while he webbed up a burglar or something. It was weird, but endearing. It was them, and Michelle treasured their time 'together.'

When she flew back out to New York to host SNL a month later, they were more solid than ever. And it was a perfect week. She'd just been nominated for an Oscar, along with her film. She was busy doing what she loved, and when she wasn't working, she and Peter were going at it like the world would end if they didn't. Peter had been her most satisfying partner of her life on Christmas Eve and Christmas, and those twelve hours paled in comparison to what he could do now that he'd gotten to know her body.

Peter even lent a hand for her opening monologue on Saturday night, and she was told by Lorne Michaels that it was the best of the season. Maybe he told that to every host, but Michelle doubted it. Peter killed it, and New York loved him.

They spent almost all of Sunday in his bed—not counting the shower, couch and kitchen table, of course. And then Monday morning came, and she had to leave again. Back to LA and back to being three thousand miles away from Peter, with nothing but FaceTime and phone sex to feel physically close with him.

And something happened to Michelle during that week back in New York. Like she'd gotten a taste of what the full relationship was with him, and she couldn't go back to simple conversations.

She didn't give up, of course. But instead of smiling deliriously after each phone call, she'd smile sadly. And instead of ignoring the ache in her heart because thinking about Peter made her so happy, the ache became too real. Like the reality of their situation became too much to ignore.

And really, she should've realized it on Christmas; or at least on that Saturday Night, live in front of millions of people, listening to the New York audience cheer on Peter Parker: he was never leaving New York.

Among the countless meaningless things they'd talked about in their late conversations, Peter had opened up to her about things the media and the world just didn't know. About his uncle and his reasons for doing what he did. For the intense and profound passion he had for his city. _His_ city.

And if Peter Parker was never leaving New York, that meant there was an unspoken agreement in their relationship that if it was ever going to work long-term, it was _Michelle_ who would have to move. It was _Michelle_ who had to change her life for someone else. It was _Michelle_ who had to compromise—and it wasn't even a compromise at all, because only _she_ was giving something up.

She told herself not to resent him. And consciously, she never did. Not once. Blaming Spider-Man for being New York's hero was insanity on the level of whatever nonsense J Jonah Jameson was now spouting. She didn't know what the man was saying lately, thank god, and fewer and fewer people did.

But as January became February, Michelle felt it in her gut, no matter what her brain argued. No matter what her _heart_ pled. Michelle would not uproot her life for anyone but herself.

She began thinking thoughts of gratitude that she'd never said those three words she wanted to say so badly. She wasn't in _too_ deep, she reasoned. Which was good. It would make things easier when...if it didn't work out.

And she was grateful to Peter, who had told her he loved her, but wasn't overbearing about it. Probably because he didn't want to pressure her. He was incredible that way. So in tune with who she was, and what she needed.

Michelle didn't make any decisions or voice any doubts. Why would she? She was still unbelievably happy with him. And she knew they could continue being happy for quite some time. Instead, she prepped for Oscar season. She got her plans in order—Betty would be her plus one, even though she dreamed it would be Peter. She did the necessary press rounds, and wished Peter was with her. He'd made it so much easier in New York. He'd made it all so much more real, instead of yet another performance.

Instead, he offered his daily support from across the country. He watched her appearances on various shows, listened to a podcast she'd joined, told her how incredible she was. And on the night before the Oscars, he offered her the rare 'I love you, MJ' as they concluded their nightly chat. She yearned to say the words back to him. She stared back at him through her phone, the stupid, wonderful device that connected them and kept them apart all at once, and a pit formed in her stomach. It was heavy and thick and made her feel sick, and she knew the only relief would be to say it back. Not from guilt or pressure, but because she _wanted_ to.

But she knew how the story ended. Months, maybe even years from now, she knew how it ended. So she let the pit be, because it was better to feel it now than then.

"Goodnight, Peter," she said instead.

His smile was sad. Did he see her hesitation? Did he feel bad for saying the words again when she couldn't (wouldn't) return them?

"Goodnight, MJ."

The next day, an hour before she left for the awards, Peter knocked on her door in LA.

-0-0-0-

_My producers tell me every day that our numbers have been dropping. 'One too many times proven wrong,' they say. First the Stark Bot is Spider-Man conjecture I made, then doubting the legitimacy of Peter Parker's abilities, then my doubts that Parker would remain loyal to the city when his lady went back to LA, and finally my implications that his relationship was more about attacking me than it was about real feelings. And to my loyal listeners who remain, let me thank you for not buying into all of this nonsense. I am an investigative journalist. It is my job to ask questions. Of course some of my questions are going to be answered with the negative—that doesn't mean they shouldn't be asked! And so let me ask my final question on the matter. How long can a relationship last between two attractive and powerful people on opposite sides of the country? I bet my remaining reputation the answer is 'not long.'_

_-J Jonah Jameson, Just the Facts_

The look of shock that morphed into joy was worth it, Peter decided within just seconds of MJ opening the door to him. The long talks with May, the conversations with Ned, the internal struggle to leave New York. It wasn't that he was against leaving for important things. He just had to decide if the Oscars was 'important'.

And frankly, for him, it wasn't. But this wasn't about him. At least not directly. It was absolutely about him through MJ, though. Because at the end of the day, he wanted nothing more than to support her. And now he was right where he wanted to be.

MJ pulled him into her home and then into a tight embrace. In her arms, all of his doubts and fears melted away. Not just about coming here, but about how MJ had been acting since she'd left New York the last time.

There was nothing overt. But sometimes her smile wouldn't reach her eyes. And sometimes she'd direct the conversation away from anything remotely about _them_. They talked about each other, of course. Deeply and meaningfully. But about _them_? Not so much.

And he'd almost cancelled his flight out here last night after he'd told her he loved her. He wasn't expecting her to say it back. When she didn't say it back the first time, Peter knew it would be a long while before she would. Something in his gut told him she either wasn't so quick to love like him, or just wasn't quick to say it like him. And he was fine with either case. He could be patient.

It was seeing her _want_ to say it back, and choosing not to that had his stomach tied in knots since last night when he'd hung up. He saw it on her lips, and in her eyes. And choosing not to made Peter scared, piling on every concern that had been building for weeks.

When she pulled back from her hug, MJ had tears in her eyes. Peter gently wiped them away. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm taking Betty's spot tonight," he said.

MJ gave a watery laugh. "She knew, didn't she?"

Peter nodded, and then kissed her.

And for a night, it was like that beautiful week in New York—the happiest of Peter's life. MJ didn't win the Oscar, but her movie did. And Peter knew that was more important to her. Besides, she'd be right back in this hall countless more times, and filling her shelves with the hardware. He told MJ as much when they got back to her place, and she rolled her eyes at him. And then he made love to her well into the following morning.

When it was time to leave, late the next day, Peter felt like their tank had been refilled. MJ's smiles had been completely genuine the whole time he was there. And before he left, she even approached the topic she'd been so averse to.

"Peter...why did you come out here?" she asked, and she picked at her nails. A nervous tick that she'd somehow controlled enough not to damage her nails, but couldn't kick completely. Peter found it endearing.

"I came because I wanted to be here with you on your special day. I wanted to be here _for_ you."

"What about New York?" she prompted, still quiet.

And Peter felt his heart quicken, because he was not prepared to have _this_ conversation. He wasn't prepared for the emotions that would accompany telling her he couldn't leave permanently.

"New York can handle a few days without me," he said honestly. "But I couldn't handle not being here with you."

She finally looked up from her nails to him. "Thank you, Peter."

And she didn't ask him to move for her. He got the distinct impression she knew his answer already. And she was aware enough that asking would only hurt them and sour the last couple of days with a bad ending.

Over the next few days, Peter held his breath every time he got on the phone with MJ. He couldn't sense the same unease that had burdened her before. He couldn't be sure he wasn't just projecting his hopes, of course, but things felt more like they had at first. Like their conversations held a certainty in each other.

Another two month passed like this. Sometimes their connection would fade a little—nothing serious, though. And they always addressed it when it happened. Peter couldn't call her for a few days due to an Avenger situation. Or Michelle would just have a really incongruous work schedule with his own schedule. Sometimes they'd talk for hours, and sometimes just minutes. But Peter generally felt like they had a handle on their relationship, and he was happy.

Especially when she'd flown out to New York twice in the second month for a mysterious audition she didn't want to tell him about. "Don't want to jinx it," she explained when he pressed her for more details after going down on her for the better part of an afternoon. "And don't think I didn't see your attempt at loosening my tongue with the use of yours."

"How dare you accuse me of _probing_ for information!" he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and a finger inside of her.

She laughed through her gasp of pleasure. "You're so dumb. But I _do_ approve of your interrogation tactics."

When she left New York after her callback, she seemed to have a bounce to her step and a gleam in her eye. Their goodbye wasn't sad like they usually were, and Peter couldn't figure out why.

He would get his answer two weeks later, when he was at home making dinner. He called Michelle, and she didn't pick up. She'd been quite busy lately, and their phone calls had been rather short. Not necessarily out of the norm, but he missed their long talks, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been hoping for some dirty talk tonight while they got themselves off.

"Peter you have a visitor," Friday said.

He frowned, not used to unexpected guests. There was a knock at his door. Which was even odder. Normally he had to let people into his building.

"Who is it?" he asked warily.

"It's Michelle."

Peter leapt over his kitchen counter and dashed for the door, heart racing, and swung it open to reveal his beautiful girlfriend. She looked absolutely wonderful, and Peter immediately pulled her into an embrace. "MJ! What are you doing here?"

"Did Friday spoil my surprise?" she asked, and she was grinning with narrowed eyes when he pulled back to get another good look at her.

"Only a few seconds ago," Peter told her before kissing her into his apartment and closing the door. "What are you doing here, MJ? Another callback?"

She shook her head. "I...I got the part."

"That's amazing!" he said. Truthfully, he was surprised she had to audition for something at all. Most of her projects she was approached by studios or directors for. And while there was plenty of work done in New York, it wasn't generally a place for auditions like LA or even Atlanta. "Are you finally going to tell me what it was for?"

She hesitated. "Peter, did I ever tell you why I turned down _Wicked_? When they approached me about making a movie?"

He shook his head. "No. You mentioned it on our first date, but I could tell you didn't really want to get into it."

"There's a long history in Hollywood of getting people of color to play Other," she explained, and Peter pulled her further into his home to sit with her on his couch. "Look at all the aliens of Star Wars or Star Trek. Basically anyone painted blue or green or with CG, and it's going to be a black woman under the paint, or someone from the middle east wearing the prosthetics.

"And the Wicked Witch was my only real option for Wicked, because even in Oz it's the blonde, white girl who is the 'normal' and popular one. So I had to think long and hard about the role. Was I feeding Hollywood's history and present of racist tendencies by taking the role? Or was it different because this was a story of how the Other shouldn't have been considered so in the first place? That society's ostracization of her because she looked different was on _them_ and not on _her_. And on top of that, in passing on a massive role like this, am I only _limiting_ what an actor of color can do because I don't want to feed the ugly patterns?"

Peter shook his head. He liked to think he was a good guy. Empathetic and aware. But here was yet another aspect of Michelle's life that he had just never considered before. He took his hands in hers. "You have to worry about and think about so much more than white Hollywood," he said. "I'm so sorry."

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "My point in bringing it up isn't to throw a pity party. Thank you, though, for understanding. My point was to give you a little insight into how I make choices. I consider all the angles, and then I make the best decision for _me_. And maybe it's not always right. Maybe I could've done more good than harm with _Wicked_. But it was _my_ decision. I promised myself when I embraced Hollywood that it would not dictate who I was. _I_ am in control."

Peter nodded, falling, if possible, even more in love with her strength and passion.

"And then you came along," she snorted. Peter raised an eyebrow. "And your very presence in my life threatened that control."

Peter's heart thumped, and for the first time, he was worried about this visit. Things had been going so well. He hadn't gotten _any_ of those negative vibes from her that he'd been so concerned about a couple months ago. Sure, they hadn't been talking for as long lately, but they were no less connected. Right?

She must've seen his face fall, because she immediately squeezed his hands in hers with reassurance. "And if I'm honest with you, Peter. At first I thought that meant we weren't going to work out. That _something_ had to give in our relationship for it to work out, and it obviously couldn't be you. And that meant it had to be me. And I would never let it be _me_."

Her words were the poison they'd never spoken aloud, and he didn't know what he would do if she hadn't come here tonight with the antidote. He swallowed, hoping the lump in his throat would go away. "Just at first?" he asked, hopefully.

She reached up to cup his face. "When you came out to see me, for the Oscars," she said, eyes glistening. "You told me something. That _you_ couldn't handle not being there for me. It wasn't that I called and I needed you. It was that _you_ needed to be there. That wasn't me forcing you to come. It might have been for me, but that didn't make it for yourself any less."

"MJ, what are you saying?" Peter whispered.

She smiled. "I'm _saying_ , dummy, that I want to be with you. For you and for us, sure. But I want it for _me_. I'm so in love with you Peter, and I don't want to go another five months only seeing you a handful of times."

Peter's entire body felt light. Heart racing at her admission of love, he thought he might just be invincible in this moment. Nothing could make it better. Except MJ's next words.

"So I am joining a new Broadway show here in New York that an old friend has written and just got a nine month contract for."

"Broadway?" Peter repeated, not quite believing his ears. "Nine months?"

And when MJ dissolved into joyous laughter, Peter joined in. He crashed his lips into hers, and offered every word of praise and love and congratulations he could think of between desperate, happy kisses.

"MJ this is incredible!" he cried when he could finally control himself long enough to pull back and look at her again. "But your Hollywood career...are you leaving it?" He was careful not to add the _for us_ or _for me_ after she'd specifically told him that wasn't the case, but he couldn't help but fear that was what was happening.

But she shook her head, still grinning. "It's kind of perfect, honestly. This was my dream years ago, and I sort of let myself forget for a few years. But I'm in between movies in the two franchises I'm committed to, and one of my other projects just got cancelled or postponed. I honestly don't care enough right now to know the details. I just knew this was our chance. Our chance to try. Completely."

"Nine months," Peter said, his voice dreamy. And there would be an after, Peter knew. When she was ready to make movies again. Sometimes she'd be on ninety-day shoots in another country. Or maybe she'd need to move to LA for months at a time for a TV show. But they'd proven they could handle the distance for that kind of schedule. And he had nine months to prove to her that she'd want to call New York home again, even with those complications. "Thank you," he whispered. "I love you so much, MJ."

She leaned in with a suggestive smile. "Why don't you show me how much," she said against his lips, her hand on his thigh.

It wasn't hurried—it never needed to be again. They had nine months ahead of them, not a single weekend and a flight.

It wasn't new—he knew MJ, and she knew him.

And above all else, it wasn't fake—Peter thought, as they fell apart in each other's arms, alone and for them alone, that love and life had never been so real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fluffy mess! Jill, Happiest of Holidays to you!! Thanks for the Fake-Dating, Celebrity AU mashup idea, it's been a joy to write.


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